#now i understand why he was impaled with a rod

[fivekrystalpetals]

Bram waited 1000 years for this day to come 😭

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd fyodor #bsd bram #bungo stray dogs #bsd bram stoker #bsd fyodor dostoevsky #bsd 111 #bsd 113 #bsd manga spoilers #bram: as thanks for saving my life pray tell of what use may i be to you? #ranpo: you see there is this guy fyodor-- #bram: ah yes fyodor. impale him with a spear immediately #my-bsd-posts #now i understand why he was impaled with a rod #my man has picked beef with everyone around the world from all ages lmao #when revenge falls #he doesn't even know which century's payback this is

[milliedazzledust]

How you fall in love (Kol Mikaelson imagine)

Request from @jazziwritesthings : Could you write an imagine for Kol, where he wants to ask the reader to marry him?

Words: 2603

A/N: It kinda took a different turn from what I had originally planned, and I definitely had teary eyes writing this. Maybe I’ll do a 2nd part, I dunno yet -  Enjoy

The day had stated beautifully. Kol had decided to take Y/N on a date to one of her favorite place; the bayou. He never understood her attraction for that place but had put his judgement aside to make this day perfect. He had been planning this for the last two months, with the help of his siblings. He was excited, ecstatic even just to think about what would be happening, but also a little stressed if he dared to admit it. Mikaelson’s proposal mission, as Elijah had put it, was on.

« Are you sure this is what you want to do today ? » Y/N asked Kol as she slammed the car door. « We could’ve just stayed at the compound and enjoy a lazy afternoon »

They had just reach the border to enter the bayou.

« Love, for the last time, we are hiking »

« You don’t like to hike, Kol »

« But you do »

She smirked.

« So after all this time I’ve spent trying to convince you to come with me you chose today »

« Yes. »

« Why ? »

« What do you mean why ? »

He was trying his best not to look at her. She could read him like an open book and he was sure she didn’t need magic powers to know what he was thinking about.

« You are up to no good, Mr.Mikaelson »

« I don’t know what you are talking about, love »

« Sure you don’t » She rolled her eyes.

He laughed and took her hand in his, dragging her into the woods. It was a short road to a clearing Hayley had mentioned to him. Earlier that day, the woman had come to set a picnic basket for them. Her, Hope and Freya had had fun decorating the place with lights, balloons, flowers and candles. They had outdone themselves, it look like a scene from a fairytale.

Kol was walking a little bit too fast for Y/N’s liking. He seemed animated by an exhilaration she couldn’t understand. Usually, he would let her hike on her own, or with her werewolves friends, but would never come. He had told her on multiples occasions he didn’t like the atmosphere around that place, nor the company of a species he couldn’t stand. She had respected his boundaries and had never asked again, until two days ago when he came with an idea that both confused and surprised her; a hike in the bayou.

« We’re almost there » Kol told her.

« Where is there ? »

« I can’t tell you »

« See, I knew you were hiding something! » She proclaimed.

He laughed, shaking his head. He turned around, a snarky remark on the tip of his lips, when he noticed Y/N had stopped moving. She stood still, her back as straight as a rod. He could almost feel the tension emanating out of her.

« What is it ? » He instantly worried.

« We’re not alone » She whispered.

That’s when he heard footsteps, very close from where they were. The sound of crushing leafs on the ground was loud enough to be discernible by his vampire ears. He glanced at Y/N, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. As soon as he saw a silhouette standing at the edge of the wood, he instinctively pushed Y/N behind him, straightening up in a defensive stance.

« Who’s there ? » He yelled.

The stranger took a couple of steps toward them, revealing an impressive form. There was no doubt this man was very much in shape. Y/N took a double take at the size of his biceps and decided she did not want to piss off this werewolf, whomever he may have been.

« That’s a question I should be asking you » The man answered. « You’re on my territory »

« We’re just hiking! » Y/N quickly responded, hoping to appease the tension forming.

She knew about Kol’s temper, especially when it came to wolves. This could go terribly wrong if she did not diffuse it from the start.

« On whose authorization ? » He continued, his chest puffing with pride.

Kol rolled his eyes.

« Look, mate, this land belongs to the Crescent wolf pack, who happens to be ruled by Hayley Marshall, and you’re not one of them »

The man visibly tightened his jaw, starting to get angry. He seemed to sniff the air for a moment and Y/N glanced at his hands balled into fists.

« A Mikaelson » He spitted, recognizing Kol’s sent.

« And you’re not a werewolf » The vampire stated.

Y/N looked at him, surprised, then back at the man who was smirking. The old vampire, fed up with his attitude, had folded his arms.

« I’m a little more than that » He viciously grinned.

Kol raised an eyebrow then suddenly huffed and throw his hands in the air.

« Of course we had to run into one of Niklaus experiment »

His nonchalant behavior surprised Y/N who did not dare to talk anymore, scared she might say something that would throw off the stranger. Kol seemed to fulfill that task without her help beautifully.

« What experiment ? » She whispered to him.

« He’s a hybrid » He told her.

« A hybrid with a message for your brother »

«  Of course … » Kol grumped in annoyance.

With a movement of the hand, he pushed Y/N out of the way, anticipating the hybrid’s attack who launched himself at the vampire. His fist soon connected with Kol’s face, who landed on the ground in a matter of seconds. Bringing a hand to wipe the blood on his jaw, he looked at the molten-red color, before deciding he was definitely infuriated. The characteristics dark veins started to appear on his flawless skin and his sharp fangs stretched out of his teeth.

Y/N watched him lunged at the man at a fast speed, smashing him in the guts then dismantled his shoulder before shoving him on the ground. The hybrid let out a grunt of pain and got back up, putting his joint into place like it was nothing. He looked positively pissed off.

Instead of assaulting the Mikaelson, this time around he decided to go for Y/N. None of the lovers were fast enough to predict the action as Kol watched in utter terror the man’s hand plug inside her chest. There was no hesitation in his move, no doubt in what he was about to do.

« No, don’t! » Kol shouted.

This was his worst nightmare. After everything he had been through, all the centuries of torture, quarrels in his family and betrayals, this couldn’t be the end of the short happiness he had lived since he’d known her. With a wicked smirk, the man tightened his hold on the woman’s heart, ready to rip it out. Kol clenched his jaw, letting his anger consume him, turning into the psychotic manic anyone knew him to be not so long ago.

He grabbed a log of wood, tearing it apart and twisted it in his hand in just a fraction of second, ready to use his newfound weapon. Enraged, he impaled the man, perforating his lungs, making him shout in pain and lose his grip on Y/N. His eyes focused on his prey, with the sole determination of killing him, he took the weapon out, turned the man around in a swift movement, then plugged it back in his chest. Before his opponent even had the chance to react, he sank his fangs in his throat, making him scream in agony. With an animalistic growl he threw his fist inside the hybrid’s ribcage then tore off his heart. The dead man falling at his feet, he looked at the useless organ in his hand, satisfied, before letting it fall on the ground with a thud next to the body.

« Kol … » He heard a voice call behind him.

His back stiffened, realizing she was still here and had seen that part of him, the coldhearted ripper. What was supposed to be the best day of their life had taken a dark turn, reinforcing his convicting that the Mikealson’s were indeed cursed and incapable of happiness.

« Kol! » She called again.

Again, he did not answer. He heard her take a step toward him and turned his bloodied face to look at her.

« Are you alright ? » He whispered.

« Yes » She answered, looking him up and down. « Are you ? »

He pursed his lips.

« Let’s go » He simply said in a cold tone she was sure she didn’t like.

Before she could even answer, he started walking ahead of her, furious. She did her best to keep up with him but the man was taller and stronger. She rolled her eyes at him, annoyed by his behavior. Why was he mad at her after she was almost torn apart by a wolf ?

« Kol, wait up ! » She shouted, almost running to catch up to him.

He huffed but didn’t slow down. Fed up by his attitude she stopped on the track, refusing to take one more step before he explained himself.

« What the hell is wrong with you ?! »

« Nothing! » He yelled.

« Obviously » She answered back with irony.

Angry for a reason she couldn’t understand, he turned back and walked to her.

« Why can’t we just have one day, ONE day, without being chased by Niklaus fucking enemies! »

She folded her arms, raising an eyebrow at his tantrum.

« It that was this is about ? Klaus ? »

« What ? No! Of course not! »

« Kol, you’re not making any sense right now »

He sighed and brushed a hand through his hair in frustration.

« Why are you so mad ? » She asked softly, hoping to appease him a little.

« Because of this! » He vehemently shouted, pointing at the werewolf not far from where they were. « This wasn’t suppose to be a near death experience! »

« Then what was it supposed to be ?! »

« A proposal! »

« … what ? »

He pursed his lips.

« I had everything planned, down to the last detail » He revealed. « I wanted it to be perfect. We were supposed to come here and take a walk through the woods just because you like them so fucking much. There was a picnic ready for us on that hill and the girls put so much effort to decorate it for you »

He went on and on sounding extremely disappointed, not even noticing Y/N was startled by the information he didn’t realize he had let out.

«  …and that werewolf wasn’t part of my plan, because who in their right mind would ask someone to marry them in the middle of a bloody fight ? But you know what, maybe Elijah was right, maybe this family is not meant to be happy»

« You were going to propose ? » She whispered, astonished.

He looked back at her, finally realizing what he had just said. Cursing himself, he closed his eyes, not wanting her to see how affected he was by all this.

« I wasn’t supposed to say that » He muttered.  

They stared at each other, one of them dumbfounded, the other heartbroken by a fate he thought he family chose for him when they were cursed centuries ago. He wanted to say something, anything, but didn’t know where to start. And before one of them could speak one word, it started to rain. They did not move, still facing one another, still trying to read invisible words, understand imperceptible feelings, as the water started to soak them up. He knew he didn’t need to say anything when he saw a tear roll down her cheek.

« What changed ? » She simply asked, her hair and clothes wet.

« Everything »

« But you love me »

« I do »

« Doesn’t that count for anything ? »

« Not when you’re a Mikaelson »

His heart broke at the sight of her tears.

« Kol, please … »

« There will be others. There’s always others »

« We’ll fight them »

He shook his head.

« Have you seen what I did back there ? »

She didn’t answer, remembering the violence of that man’s death.

« I don’t want you to witness any of that » He confessed, his voice shaking with emotion. « I don’t want you to know that man because that’s not who I am anymore »

« What are you saying ? » She asked in a whisper, almost afraid to know the answer.

« I’m saying there are … things in this life I don’t want to give up, things I wish I could keep with me for the rest of my life, but I can’t »

The realization of what he was implying almost knocked her out. Before this sudden confession, rain used to bring her peace. There was a serenity, a sense of peace with each droplets that she could no longer feel in that moment.

« I’m saying I love you, Y/N » He whispered, his hand gently stroking her cheek. « and I’ll love you until I die, and if there’s life after that, I’ll love you then. »

She slapped his hand away, the tears now running freely on her face.

« You can’t do that, Kol, I won’t allow you to destroy what we have because of some made up curse you think the world has brought upon your family »

He didn’t seem to listen to her and instead took her head between his hands, forcing her to look back at him

« You have to know I did my best to keep you away from this madness » He confessed, his eyes watering. « But this life, this … violence is not what I want for you »

« You don’t get to decide for me »

« Y/N… »

« No! You think I don’t know what this is Kol ! I know that look ! I’ve seen it before ! I know what you’re trying to do and I won’t let you! »

« I have no other choice »

« You’re a coward, Kol Mikaelson! » She yelled, pushing him back with all the force she could muster, making him fall.

She could barely breathe and her body had started to shake. From the cold or the emotions, she didn’t know.

« This » She said, crying out and pointing at Kol and herself. « This is worth fighting for and you know it but you’re taking the easy way out, you’re giving up! »

« I’m giving you a chance to live, Y/N ! » He shouted back, throwing up his hands in frustration. « Can’t you see that ?! »

« All I see is you, breaking my heart »

This time the tears ran down his eyes.

« Why ? » Was all she had the strength to say anymore.

« In our worlds, with our enemies, a bond as strong as what we have will be considered a threat and be used against us, love » He started to explain.

Taking her hands in his, he kissed them before kissing her forehead.

« You are an echo, Y/N, my anchor in a brutal world, with the power to tear down walls I have built so high and deep. So though i need you, want you, love you … I most likely have to walk away »

A sob escaped her mouth, instantly making him regret everything he was saying and doing and he cursed himself a thousand deaths for the pain he was causing.

« I hate you » She murmured.

« No, you don’t. And I hope one day you’ll forgive me »

Suddenly, the wind seemed too cold and standing in the rain, Y/N never felt so vulnerable and powerless. This was selfish and beneath anything he had ever done. The growing pain was already unbearable as she stared back at him. She was sure his last words would play over and over again in her head. She knew she’d never be able to stop loving him, even with a broken heart. Every single part he was stealing of her, he was making it impossible for her to put it back together. She would remain empty without him, an unfinished puzzle with forever missing pieces.

#kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson x reader #kol mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson fanfiction #kol mikaelson imagines #the originals #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikealson x reader #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikealson x reader #hayley marshall

[jackrrabbit]

Oh? Request open? Since you write for Inuyasha, how about some 18+ content for Koga please?

Mating Season /// Koga x f!Reader (18+)

I’ve always had a soft spot for Koga, and he has so much nasty potential as a wolf demon. Repressed village girl vs. horny wolf-boy is peak lewd.

Warnings: dubcon, wolf characteristics, yandere, light a/b/o, very light breeding kink (there’s like 1 mention of it)

As a villager at the foot of the mountains where Koga’s pack lives, you’ve heard stories since you were a child about the vicious wolf demons who live in caves and eat little girls who stray away from their homes. Now that you’re an adult and you only half believe in fairy tales, you still should’ve known better than to take a nap in the woods with sunset coming so soon. But who could blame you? They were just stories. Rumors. Old wives’ tales passed down from mother to daughter for generations, a warning not to stray from what was known. And you’d been exhausted. During the daylight hours you know these woods like the back of your hand—surely you can’t be blamed for putting down your basket and resting your eyes, just for a moment?

Not that he needs more than a moment. Your fate is sealed the second you step into the woods, into his territory, where he’s isolated himself to spend his rut away from the other members of his pack. It’s hard enough to hold back his…more aggressive instincts when he’s alone; but when he finds you sleeping propped up against a tree, looking sweet and innocent and smelling like a bitch in heat, you really just don’t stand a chance.

Koga’s torso pushes down into your back like he’s trying to pin you with the weight of his body. When you manage to suck in a breath (struggling to let your ribs expand against his iron-solid grip on you), you can smell his sweat and yours mixing with the slightly-damp earth under your feet and the sharp, bitter medicinal herbs you were gathering. With your skirts pushed up to your waist the springtime evening mist is frigid against your bare skin, but the heat radiating off his body is making you feel feverish anyway. Your knees are digging into the dirt and for some reason the thought crosses your mind that your nice white stockings are definitely going to stain, and your mother is going to be so angry, and you almost want to laugh at how absurd the thought is. As if a few stains could possibly matter while a demon is fucking you.

Instead of laughing, you whimper as Koga hits a particularly deep spot inside of you. How many times has he finished inside now? Three? Four? His arm is wrapped around your torso, keeping your body locked into his while he drives into you over and over and over. His thick cock nudges up against your cervix every time he pushes his hips toward your ass. It hurt at first. You aren’t sure when it stopped hurting. Maybe it still hurts.

But oh…it feels so good, too. You didn’t even know it was possible to feel like this. It’s like you’ve been hungry—starving—your whole life, and now you’re finally getting something to eat. Every inch of your cunt aches, but at some point you start trying to buck your hips back toward his. It isn’t so much reciprocation as it is just trying to ground yourself, or maybe letting yourself go in the moment… You can barely keep yourself upright, and you drop onto your elbows, your forehead inches away from the mud.

The demon growls—growls, actually growls like a wild animal, as if you needed more convincing—and he presses his bare chest down toward you, the sweat soaking off of his skin and through the fabric of your bodice. His thrusts are slower now, not the rapid jerks that he started out with. Maybe he can tell you like this better? Feeling every inch of his cock opening you up and rubbing against the sensitive walls of your cunt is making you afraid you’re going to lose your mind in the delirious fog of what you would call lust if you knew the word for it.

You certainly sound like you want it, your pleas transforming into sweet moans as your body adapts to the mating. You probably don’t even realize how wanton your voice is. Whatever else you’ve said, all Koga can hear in his rut-induced haze are your cries of pleasure and the squelching of his dick sliding in and out of you.

It’s easier when you don’t have to look at him. You can pretend that this is a dream, the kind of impure fantasy the village girls giggle to each other about, comparing their conquests, making up stories about which of the young men is the most handsome, who probably has the most experience, who might have the biggest—

“Ah!” you cry out, squeezing your eyes shut so you don’t have to look at the creamy smears of the demon’s cum painting your thighs white and collecting on the dirt between your legs. Surely no mortal man would be capable of finishing so many times without even pulling out.

Koga releases your hips and you rock forward, startled, until he grabs you by your upper arm and pulls you upright so you’re sitting in his lap with his cock still impaled inside of you. He rolls his hips experimentally and you hiss in surprise as his thick head drags against a sensitive spot in your pussy.

Before you can get accustomed to the new angle, he’s pulling your head around so you’re forced to look into his face. You imagine that this is how a prey animal feels when it’s stared down by a predator—a rabbit looking at a wolf, haha, your mind supplies involuntarily—there’s something that makes it impossible to look away. The part of your brain that’s still clinging to rationality and trying to compartmentalize notes for a second that oddly enough, he looks just as desperate as you feel.

“Wh-whyyy?” you whine, half-aware that this is the first real word spoken between you. You don’t know why you think he’s going to respond—even though he looks more human than the other demons you’ve encountered, his actions have been just as feral and animalistic as the rest of them, if only less violent and more…depraved.

There’s a bead of sweat rolling down your neck, and Koga can’t take his eyes off of it. He tangles his fingers in your hair and pulls your head back to expose the smooth column of your throat, careful not to yank it hard enough to hurt you. Humans are so fragile. When he tilts forward to lick the salty droplet off your skin, he feels your shiver all the way down. “You—I smelled you…”

In your half-aware state, it takes you a moment to hear him. “…What?”

The demon nuzzles his face into your hair, and his leisurely sigh stirs the fine hairs on the back of your neck. “Smells so good…waiting for me. Begging for me…”

“I—I don’t understand? Begging? Ah—ahhh…” Not for the first time, you try to push away from the demon uselessly. The rhythm of his slow, rocking thrusts doesn’t falter—you wouldn’t be surprised if he can’t even feel it.

It’s not easy for Koga to listen to your words when your moaning is so much more interesting, but he tries. For your sake. His soft little mate, so warm and weak while you grind your ass into his lap. What about this don’t you understand? He smelled you, he wanted you, he fucked you. And you wanted it too, of course you did…why else would you be wandering around by yourself in the peak of your heat, so ripe and ready for breeding that the smell of your lust is rising off your skin in waves? Why else would you have crossed into the territory of an alpha in his rut…?

But humans don’t think like that, do they?

The thought pierces Koga’s mind with a sudden, harsh clarity that would have been impossible had he not already finished inside your needy cunt four times now. Humans are different. Their senses of smell are so weak, just like the rest of them.

Koga remembers, unwillingly, a time when he crossed paths with Kagome’s party while she’d been on the edge of her heat. He smelled it, and Inuyasha noticed. The mutt pulled Koga aside to warn him not to mention it to her.

“But she’s about to go into heat. She shouldn’t be out of her house, let alone traveling with you, hanyo. Or can you even smell it?”

“Shut up, of course I can! But she can’t. Believe me, I brought it up to her once and she got pissed and said I was a pervert. Humans don’t know about stuff like that.”

They…don’t know. So that meant you didn’t know. You came into his territory by accident. You don’t know you’re in heat. You don’t know he’s in his rut, and you don’t know he’s an alpha. You probably don’t even know you’re in his territory.

The demon’s movements slow and then go still, and you’re left sitting in his lap with his cock still pulsing, a stiff rod of heat in your belly. You wait a moment, wondering if he’s going to pull out, but he doesn’t. His arm is still wrapped around you and his sharp fingernails are digging into the fabric of your bodice, no doubt leaving crescent-shaped marks in your skin. Involuntarily you feel yourself rock your hips against his pelvis, a feeble attempt to get him to pull out or even just move—the sex might’ve been uncomfortable, but feeling all full and stretched and so close to satisfaction with no way to get it by yourself is unbearable.

When there’s no response, you turn around toward him to get your first good look at the man (the demon) who’s made you want things you don’t even know how to say out loud. He’s good-looking—tall, tan, with boyish good looks (that would have earned him quite a few admirers if he were a villager like you) and flat blue eyes that seem oddly unfocused. His hair is tied up in a ponytail and you have the urge to pull on it, just like he pulled on your hair a moment ago. You don’t know his name. “Demon…please. I need you,” you whisper, letting some of the urgency you’re feeling spill into your voice.

Both of his hands clamp down on your hips, securing you in place while he slams his hips up back into yours. “Mate,” he snarls, his voice drowning out your yelp of pleasure, and before your mind goes blank with lust again, a chill runs down your spine because you’re not sure if he’s correcting you…or addressing you.

#inuyasha #inuyasha imagines #koga #koga x reader #smut #this ended up weirdly tender idk idk #i feel like the only audience for this will be me and the person who sent me the ask #but who cares #it's free real estate #yandere x reader #a/b/o #lowkey? #dubcon #tw dubcon

[artoodeeblue]

A Lady on Paper

Find the French version along with my other original writing on this blog!

I can barely remember my birth. My first one, anyway. The cornerstone. It is shrouded in mist, cloggy like the swamp of my cradle-town. Someone must have fathered me – towers and spires rarely sprout up unannounced, I have gathered. In the echoes of my nave, I still hear the scratching of quill over parchment, the heavy bangs of the hammer, the heaving of my creators’ breaths.

The little details give me real life. I take my first breath when Gaultier chisels his initials on one of my rib vaults. His upturned tongue sticks out, almost touching the freckles on his nose. The light bounces through his walnut hair and lands on my freshly-carved stones.

“Hello,” I whisper, gently caressing his mind.

“Hi.” He smiles. Wipes the sweat from his forehead. His voice is tentative. He doesn’t quite know what he’s doing, but his tender name glows, etched into the millennia.

“Pleased to meet you, Gaultier.”

With a professional hand, he scratches another layer of mortar on his stone. In the growing mass that will become my visitors, the sound is both grounding and appeasing. Painfully, heavily, I rise.

“Me too, my Lady.”

Someone must have sired me, but my loyalty has always been to my children.

 They give me jewellery and thorn crowns, which I accept like a mother concedes to her child’s present. I don’t need them, but if they reassure them – if they can feel less alone in this world – I can carpet my walls with a thousand tapestries.

Gaultier is long gone, but his laugh still echoes in the choir. It spins around, playfully blowing out candles and raising my children’s hair. His parting gift to the generations.

 They give me eyes. I count three, round and gleaming. They flash with pastel, sketched with a delicate mix of stone and glass. With them I see my cradle-town. I see the steaming chimneys, the palace, the paved dampness of the city. I finally see my children, immersed in pink and blue light. Kneeling, muttering, singing. Confessing. They come in processions, light candles most cannot afford, speak a language I do not understand. I pray as well – that they find the answers they ask of me.

They add more intricate buttresses, for fear that I fall. I chuckle. Of course I will fall. I will burn down and crumble and fade until I am nothing more than a lady on paper. But Raymond will have none of this. He gives out orders, holding his parchment, counting steps and scratching on his board.

His touch is firm and steady. He pats me like his pet, running his fingers in the tiny creases between the stones.

(He misses Gaultier’s carvings, which I hide covetously.)

“You will become the most beautiful temple ever to stand upon this earth,” he tells me. His pompous language never fails to pry a laugh. “You will be thin as a sheet of parchment, yet your towers will stand strong until Judgment Day.”

“My sisters have not,” I try again. “Can you not hear their screams, as they fall to pieces and flames in the East? Only their ruins will see the sun rise on Judgment Day.”

“Not you,” Raymond insists. “You are better. You are good. You are holy.”

“Holier than the entire civilisation your people slaughtered in the name of God?”

His blue eyes glint with stars and hubris. He jerks his chin upwards. “Yes.”

My children are strong, and proud, and will burn themselves for a touch of the sun.

  I wonder if this was how my sisters felt in the East.

They plunder my crypt, behead my kings and saints, but I never knew them anyway – they are all mere faces tattooed without my consent. Fake jewels. Kings never come to say hello; they just waltz in, kneel, smirk, and declare war over heretics.

Julien’s little kick is nonchalant, patronising.

The pavement is coated with a thick layer of blood. It swirls around me, inside me, churns my stomach and stares at me. They don’t do much to me – maybe, underneath the harsh gaze of the Raymond they so despised, they can hear Gaultier’s murmurs of hope. I never really understood hate, but I know it quickly dissolves under permanence.

“Not so powerful now, huh, girl?”

He wears a blue and red tricorn which awkwardly frames his childish face. He cannot be over twenty, yet his tongue sticks out as if he had finally brought a lion to its knees. Still, it has been decades since I have spoken. I nudge him back.

“Never,” I answer.

Julien smirks, and waves his little flag. “We control you now,” he gloats. “You’ll never hurt anyone else again. You’ll be forgotten, just like every other part of the Old Regime.”

“So will you.”

With a giant, heaving swing, the rod comes smashing towards St Thomas. His head explodes, and the fragments scatter through my bowels.

“I despise you,” he snarls. His breath is ragged, and his chiselled jaw twitches in its socket. “You’re everything that’s evil in this world.”

I am only rocks, I want to tell him. How can stone, oak, mortar and carved initials rival with the bloody smoke-trail of a musket?

But he is already gone, running on the pavement, carried by youth and homicidal optimism.

They change my name – it belongs sometimes to Reason, sometimes to the Supreme Being, sometimes to Liberty. My children are creative, and fickle. Anything to prove that they have changed.

But a few chopped off heads do not change the tell-tale glimmer in your eyes.

  A man with almond eyes and a high forehead like mine pushes through my heavy door. His steps break my trance-like slumber, and I stir. Shy sunlight cracks through my unused eye. I blink. Slowly.

Gaultier’s laugh is no more than a whisper now. It has lost its music – has grown as lethargic as mine. Raymond’s promise flies over me like the angel of Death.

The man blows, sending a streak of fresh air over the piers. Dust materialises in the diffused rays. He stumbles around the half-ruins littered on the floor.

Electricity courses through his fingertips as he brushes my stone. I shudder. I haven’t been touched like this in centuries.

There’s an aura around him. Not divine – not like the few priests who still roam my sleepy aisles. Something rich and brown, scented with paper, ink and starlight. His eyes seek, blink, and dart in rhythm with the turn of the earth. His feet are posed firmly on the checkered tiles, yet his posture is light and dream-like. Grounded, physical, yet full of wonder. Not broken – not yet.

He smells so intensely, decidedly human.

I take a breath, and guide his hand towards the tiny alcove I made. It hides in the joint between walls, covered by dust and inconsequence. His breath gets caught in his throat, Adam’s apple bopping up and down. He religiously traces around the tired G, the sloppy H. It stings up to my spire, but tickling nerves feel much less lonely than numb inattention.

“Six hundred and fifty years,” he murmurs. “We must look like insects to you.”

I brush his skin, watching his eyes light up with Muses. Deep in the bowels of my bells, a slow rumbling comes to greet him.

“I think you look like giants, Victor.”

 Out of everyone who said hello, he’s the only one who comes back broken.

“Look at you, all pampered,” he says. “You’re a proper lady on paper now. On your way to your old beauty.”

“It is your doing, my love. Your beautiful story set the spark.”

Victor smiles, a weary, tentative thing that contrasts with the navy bags under his eyes. His back is hunched, shoulders drawn tight under his jacket.

Sometimes, Victor reminds me so much of myself it sends sparks of pain down to my crypt.

“I am so very sorry, my dear.” I send him a tender sunray, but he recoils – flinches – away. He takes a shuddering inspiration.

The clangs and thrusts of the renovation scaffolding reverberate inside the nave. Victor’s knee fidgets back and forth, up and down, synchronised with my heartbeat. His breath comes in long, trembling sighs. He dips his head a little more, letting his brows cloud his gaunt expression with shadows too old for his age.

“She was…” Victor falters. “My Leopoldine, she was only nineteen.”

He whimpers, shoulders trembling. Never in his life could he withhold emotions from his features. My Victor has always felt everything so viscerally, so fiercely, that the force of a hundred hell fires could not possibly restrain him.

His hands are linked together and his eyelids close – a small, awkward attempt to connect to something far above my spire. I stay silent.

“You’re supposed to know everything.” His mouth moves, yet his voice comes from another realm. His brow twitches. “If you’re so omniscient, can’t you at least tell me… Tell me why?”

That is the one question I cannot answer, that I can never answer.

“Why can’t you bring her back?”

His broken sobs do not echo. Neither do Gaultier’s laugh, Raymond’s hopes, Julien’s fire. They are absorbed in the scaffolding above, in the heavy oak framework, in the centuries-old mortar.

 Sometimes I wish I could speak to God. After all, am I not named after his mother?

Perhaps I am condemned to share her fate, forced to watch my children break and die, suspended to the cruel post of Time.

Demain, dès l’aube, à l’heure où blanchit la cathédrale… Je partirai.

  It feels…strange, to say the least. I am smaller, lower. Reduced.

Smoke and ashes fly from my spire over my cradle-town, my beloved light-city. My children are cut from me, staring powerless behind murmuring firemen. They pray, they sing, mutter words of comfort that I barely catch over the screaming in my mind.

It aches. The intricate carpentry consumed, the flames licking up my roof, the crashing water relentlessly boring into my shoulders. The tireless wind ramming against my walls, whistling between my towers. It carries the bystanders’ collective gasp as they watch my spire crumble and impale my flank.

A young fire woman fixes her gaze on the brazier, a stoic jawline firmly maintaining her illusion of control. I can barely discern the tell-tale glimmer of her eyes through the smoke.

“You must be in so much pain.”

Maybe, but my pain is not unbearable. My children’s is.

“Don’t worry. We will protect you.” Her voice is wobbly, with a higher pitch than usual, yet her hand on the hose could not get any steadier.

 When the sun rises over my still smouldering body, I hear relief, and I hear grief. The city, my radiant, proud, boastful people, hang in exhausted silence. It drapes over me.

My close call to destruction caused thousands of individuals to turn their heads towards an old remnant of the Regime.

“We will rebuild,” they say. From my undamaged eye, I spot their leader, surrounded by a shifting mass of microphones and cameras. “We will restore Our Lady to her former glory, and make her even more beautiful. We will make these stones alive again.”

Raymond’s voice resonates through millions of television sets. His eyes bore straight through the country.

I think of Gaultier’s sweat-filled affection, of his cheery compassion.

Of Julien’s anger at the vices of the world, of the passionate curve of his eyebrows.

I think of Victor the writer, of his beautiful smile and his magnificent tears, of his unconditional love for humanity.

I think of the three or four billionaires I have never met, who will claim to adore me by bedecking me with fake jewels, by cajoling me with impersonal wood and long-dead cold stone.

I think of my other sisters in the ocean, in the forests, in the air. Cathedrals that will never be rebuilt nor remembered, in the small scheme of political power. Monuments older than my cradle-town disappearing with the snap of two fingers, never to be seen again. Killed by hubris, disdain and general disinterest.

 My stones do not make me alive. Just like you, they decay, wither, and burn.

No. I do not remember the placing of my cornerstone.

I took my first breath when a young, gap-toothed bricklayer chiselled his initials on the slabs of my rib vault.

#writing #Notre Dame de Paris #short story #my writing #reblog if you like? please? <3

[toxophilitis]

An Incestuous Party

Chapter 1

"Oh, Larry," giggled Ann Dolan as her new husband slipped his hand up the back of her loose dress. "David might be watching. Besides, the movers are still coming in and out of the house. You wouldn't want to give them a private show, would you?"

Larry appeared not to hear her, although he did remove his hand from her buttocks. Turning her around, he brushed a kiss on her full, luscious lips as he held her curvaceous body tightly against his. The two movers, bringing their new couch into the living room, stood and watched the pair of newlyweds.

"Ahem, "said one of them. "Where would you like this thing?"

Ann looked up from her husband and pushed him away slightly,

"Just put it in the room here out of the way," she said in a cheery voice. "We don't quite know where we want everything. Is that the last of it?"

"Right, lady," said the other mover, handing her a pad to sign. Larry took it from him, signed for the furniture and handed the pad back to him.

"Well, you two have fun in your new home," said the first mover. "And let me be the first to welcome you to Cortland, New York."

"Thank you," answered Ann. "I'm sure we'll be happy here."

Larry's romantic mood was broken with the interruption of the movers. He sat down on the couch and looked at his wife's luscious body. Even when she dressed in her house working clothes, she looked fantastic. The loose dress she was wearing hardly hid her full, voluptuously curved breasts, and the cloth fit tightly around her narrow, tapered waist. The sunbathing she had done during the summer still left its mark, and her legs were evenly tanned, just the way they had been when she had gone sunbathing in the nude with him during their honeymoon. Even then she had been a little distant and removed from him. She said it was because she was worried about David, her fourteen year old son, but Larry knew that she was not sure she would be able to be the kind of wife he wanted. It was the memory of her first husband that ripped through her mind. Her first marriage had left some pretty deep scars, and she had her doubts that she would be able to go through with a second marriage. Now, though, she was bubbly and buoyant. Taking her away from all those unhappy memories in Oakland and bringing her to the East was a stroke of brilliance, and he was glad he had been able to talk her into it.

"Happy?" he said as she turned on her toes, looking at the bare walls in the living room.

"I've never been happier," she answered, and she meant it. Meeting Larry had opened up a whole new life for her, and she wanted to make sure that everything worked out well for them. The only ink blot on her life right now was her son, David. He had worshipped his real father, and had made it clear that he would never accept Larry as his father now. Well, thought Ann, that's something he'll grow out of, at least he'd better.

"Hey," said Larry as his wife finally stopped her turning. "How's about you coming over here and sitting down next to me? We can break in our new home, and worry about where we're going to put the furniture later."

Ann smiled and sat down, burying herself in Larry's strong arms. He curled them around her and placed his hand on her lush, well rounded breast, pinching the already tightening nipple through her bra. He felt her shiver and squirm against him and she molded herself to his muscular body while he engulfed her supple mound of firm young tit flesh fully in his hand.

"Where's David?" she asked. "I wouldn't want him to come in while we were doing something he shouldn't see."

"Don't worry about David," cooed Larry, kneading her breast and pinching her nipple tighter. "The last I saw him, he was out playing in the woods behind the house. He's probably looking for kids his own age to make friends with. We have the whole house to ourselves."

She smiled at the thought. It had been a long time since she was alone, really alone with Larry. Even on their honeymoon, she had almost been forced to bring her son along with her, and there was no way of knowing just when he would pop up and ask something embarrassing. Larry turned his body to hers and moved to kiss her open lips, but she quickly placed her hands against his chest and stopped him.

"Why don't we give the bed upstairs a try," she hinted, her eyes sparkling with lascivious delight, their pale blueness twinkling in a teasing manner. "After all, if it's no good, we'll still have the whole day to take it back to the store and try another one."

Larry smiled and released her. Bouncing up off the couch, she seemed to glide across the floor to the stairs, and as she ran up to the bedroom, she took two and sometimes three steps at once. He followed her, trying to catch up, but she had too much of a head start on him, and she was able to get into the room before he was. Closing the door, she teased him humorously, refusing to let him in until he gave some secret pass word. Finally, he threatened to break down the door, and she told him that that was exactly what she had wanted to hear. Letting him in, she closed and locked the door.

David cursed his luck. He had been hiding in an empty box near the couch, and he was wishing that his step-father would fuck his mother in the living room instead of going to the bedroom. Now there would be no way he could watch them. Making sure that they were not about to come out of the bedroom, he crawled from his hiding place and inched his way quietly up the stairs to the bedroom door. Placing his ear tightly against the solid wood portal, he closed his eyes and concentrated all his energies on listening to the sounds of their giggling and laughing. He hated his new step-father, hated him more than he hated anyone else, and the thought of him fucking his mother, actually sticking his cock up inside her nakedly spread little cunt-hole, was almost too much for him to take. His first father would never have been so crude as to actually do anything like that. His first father was kind and understanding, so much so that he had allowed his mother to sleep in her own bed. Suddenly the laughter in the room faded away, and the two people became almost silent. David was forced to press his ear tighter against the door to hear what was going on.

Inside the room, Larry had silenced his wife's laughing with a firm and bruising kiss, pressing his lips firmly against hers and worming his tongue deeply into the warm confines of her mouth. She responded by wrapping hers around his and pressing tightly against it, her hands holding tightly his powerful waist while he slid his arms down the curves of her hips and gripped her firm, well-rounded buttocks, pulling her hungrily against his body. She could feel his massive rod of swelling cock-flesh grow in his constricting pants, and the heavy desire seething organ seemed to burn right through the skimpy bikini panties she wore beneath her dress. Already she could feel the hotly burning juices of desire seeping through her cuntal opening as she became excited and hotly aroused. His hands were kneading her ass cheeks, pulling her tighter and tighter against him, and she finally slid her arms from his waist, gripping firmly his tightening buttocks and drawing him passionately to her trembling body.

He kneaded her softly grinding ass cheeks and began to draw up her dress along her sensuous legs, pulling at the loose garment and exposing the silky softness of her naked thighs, and revealing her thin, white panties. Pulling her tighter against his body, he placed one leg between hers and slipped his hand up beneath the elastic band of the thin cum-wet covering and ran his finger along her hotly throbbing cunt lips. Instantly, Ann tightened her body and gasped as she felt a rush of blazing fire race through her entire vagina as Larry screwed his middle finger deeply up into her hotly engulfing cunt walls. Opening his hand, he impaled her wetly seething vagina fully, driving his finger deeper and deeper up into the slippery wet opening of her hotly aroused pussy, nipping at the thin silken wisps of softly curling cuntal hair that lined and fringed the tiny, tightly clasping little hole. His other hand slipped between her panties and body and gripped tightly at her ass- cheeks, probing between the warm fleshy orbs of her buttocks and teasing at the tightly puckered little circle of her asshole.

Ann pulled Larry tighter still against her trembling body and pressed the burgeoning mass of cock flesh against her now nearly completely naked pussy.

"Oh, baby," he hissed through tightly clenched teeth. "I want you. I want to fuck your hot little pussy so bad. I want to fuck you right now."

His lewd words excited Ann even more, and she slipped her hands into the pants of her new husband, reaching through the cloth and gripping tightly at his turgidly throbbing cock as best she could.

"And I want you, darling," she whispered seductively. "I want you to get on top of me and fuck me. I want you to fuck me til I cream!"

Pushing him away from her body, she placed her hands on the lower hem of her dress and pulled the garment up over her head, hardly messing the full, light blonde hair that reached nearly to her waist. In a brief second, she was standing before her husband wearing nothing but a half bra and the skimpiest of bikini panties. Already there was a warm wet circle on her panties between her legs where her cunt lips had been seeping profusely. Her breasts were full and swollen, and her bra seemed ready to burst with the rapid expansion of the fleshy orbs. Her nipples were bright red and rock hard, and they looked like two eyes gazing at Larry. Her husband was motionless as his eyes roamed the sensuous body laid before him, and he wandered over her curvaceous form, drinking in the sensual beauty of his ripe for fucking wife. Sure, she may be twenty- nine, but that was all the better. She was still young, and her body had all the experience of her first marriage. That hot little cunt of hers was still tight as a drum, and he remembered from their honeymoon that she was one of the best lays he ever had. He couldn't wait any longer. He had to have her right now, wanted to ravish this luscious little cunt in front of him. His cock was pressing tightly against his pants, and he would see to it that his penis was satisfied.

Unbuckling his pants, he dropped them to the floor, his outsized cock jutting from between his legs against his underwear like an angry spear. Pulling his shirt from his body, he ripped several buttons from it, but he hardly heard their tinkling on the floor. Kicking his shoes off his feet, he stood in front of his luscious wife, his arms stretched out to her, indicating that she should come to him. She glided across the floor and pressed her nearly naked body against his, molding her form into the hairy, powerful near nudeness of her husband. His skin was warm against hers, and she raced her hands along his trembling waist and gripped the soft warmth of his fleshy buttocks, slipping her hands into his shorts and delighting in the sensuous feeling of his naked ass-cheeks. Moving her hands around to the front, she encircled his turgid cock in her slender hands, his seething penis flesh searing her dainty skin as she found that she could not fully close her fingers around the torrid mass of hot flesh jutting from between his hairy legs. She could feel the surging, pulsing blood pump through the massive, spear-like rod, and her hand stroked the scorching cock gently and lightly, moving his shorts down his thighs until he finally reached with his hands and pulled them off his body all- together.

Freed from its confinement, his Herculean cock bounced upwards at a forty-five degree angle, and Ann stepped away from him to gaze at his hardened desire. It was thickly webbed with blue veins, turning it into an angry looking, purple shaft of wanton delight. She could see it expand and contact slightly as his lust heated blood coursed through the mass, his mushroom shaped head glowing like a burning coal. His balls were swollen and hanging loosely beneath the base of his prick, the scrotum covered with his dark, course pubic hair.

Unable to wait any longer, she ripped her bra from her swollen breasts and allowed them to fall freely to her chest. Lifting up one leg, she quickly removed her passion-moistened panties and tossed them aside, presenting herself in all her naked glory before her husband. Her legs were trembling as she tried to imagine his massive cock fucking deeply in and out of her hotly burning, cunt lips. For a moment she thought it would never fit. His penis was harder than she had ever seen it before, and he would surely tip her pussy mouth wide apart, turning her whole lower body into a giant cunt. His cock was so long that she imagined it would fuck all the way up to the bottom of her belly inside her vagina. And that was what she wanted. She wanted to feel him ram his turgidly throbbing cock all the way to the hilt, wanted to feel the seething mass of sex-heated flesh plunging far back up into her desire-strickened cunt and fuck her into a belly-wrenching orgasm.

"Well," she said, turning her head to one side, her long blonde hair almost covering one swollen breast. "Are you just going to stand there?"

"No way, baby," hissed Larry. "I want to get into that little cunt of yours right now."

Walking to her, he wrapped his arms around her narrow waist and pulled her tightly against him, pressing his burgeoned cock firmly against the quivering flesh of her soft, flat belly. He felt her shiver as she came into first contact with the searing penis, but she did nothing to pull her body away. She opened her mouth and pressed her lips tightly against his, driving her tongue deeply into his throat. He reciprocated immediately, winding his wetly around hers and pressing tightly against it. He could feel the sex-hard breast nipples rubbing against his chest, sending lascivious ripples of insane delight searing through his body and resting in his quivering loins. His hand moved around her body and fingered her cuntal slit from behind, the fore finger running along the whole, hotly seething length of her pussy orifice a quarter of an inch into the wet, heated depths.

Ann instantly spread her legs, lifting her body up on her toes as she tried to impale her aching cunt on the hardened flesh between his strong, masculine thighs. He backed away slightly, and she lowered her body on nothing, a lascivious moan of disappointment emanating from her lips.

"Ummmmmmm," she hissed wantonly. "Come on, quit your teasing, darling. Fuck it to me now!"

Holding onto her hand, Larry pulled her across the room to the frameless bed resting in the middle of the floor. Sitting down at the edge, he pulled her to his naked body, and together they fell backwards, bouncing as they hit the mattress. Ann laid on her back while Larry turned to his side, running his hands lightly along the silky smooth skin of her supple, soft belly flesh. Engulfing handfuls of her quivering stomach, he inched his hand closer and closer to the lewdly spread split of her vaginal opening, coming closer and closer to the soft tangled curls of her fleeced golden pussy mound. Touching the sensitive thighs, he opened his hand fully and surrounded her entire cunt with his palm, squeezing and kneading the yielding flesh of her vaginal area, the tip of his fuck finger coming teasingly close to the tightly waiting little pussy hole. She lifted her body and forced his finger to touch her cunt and he was unable to resist plunging into the wetly warm depths of her already gyrating pussy. She stiffened her whole body at the depth of his finger thrust, and she reached out with her own slender fingers and gripped tightly the torching, seething mass of cock touching her belly. Stroking the burning rod, she pulled his tighter against her sweat and cum-covered thighs, plunging his finger deeper still into the yielding depths of her wet, hot cunt.

Her whole body seemed as though it was on fire, and the fire was centered in the abyssal depths of her hotly aroused cunt. Larry was rubbing his fuck finger against her vaginal walls, sending ripples of lascivious delight coursing through her body. Larry's hand was undulating in and out of her cunt, making lewd and exciting sucking sounds as he slapped his flattened palm firmly against the cum-lubricated pussy opening, and as he wormed another finger into the burning, aching cuntal lips, Ann seethed a hiss of utter delight as a wave of wanton lust washed through her body.

"Aaaaaiiiiiiieeeeee!

Her scream broke the silence of the room and seemed to shatter the sensual quiet, and the desperation in her voice enticed Larry to fuck her faster and faster with his cunt enveloped finger.

* * *

David, with his head pressed tightly against the door, heard his mother's scream, and for a brief moment, he thought something might be wrong with her. He was about to knock and ask if Larry was hurting her, when he heard his mother's voice again.

"Oh, yes, yes. Fuck it to me. Fuck it to me now."

Apparently, whatever was happening was to her liking, and besides he had heard her lock the door when she went in. What ever was going on, his mother wanted it to happen. But there was something he didn't understand. He had never heard his mother use such language around his real father. In fact, if she had, he would have beaten her to within an inch of her life.

There was something else, too. His own little cock was beginning to balloon in his pants, something that happened only when he was alone in bed. He didn't understand the feelings that were racing through his body, and against his will, he suddenly found his hands actually grabbing his cock and stroking it in his jeans. Once again, he pressed his head against the door, but he could hear nothing but the low, panting sounds of heavy breathing and a quick wet slapping arose, as though someone were being spanked.

* * *

Larry had engulfed Ann's breast with his free hand, and as he continued his hand fucking, he squeezed the desire-swollen mounds firmly, pinching the cherry-sized breast nipple between his thumb and fore-finger. Each time he constricted his fingers, he could feel her shudder her body convulsively, both her hands holding his heavily throbbing cock, moving more and more rapidly along the seething, searing pillar of penis muscle thrusting from between his legs. She turned her body from her back to her side and pressed it tightly against Larry's naked form, molding herself into the tightened flesh of his eagerly hardened cock.

Suddenly he removed his finger and hand from her undulating cunt and placed it on her other breast, squeezing both fleshy mounds at once as he pressed her again to her back. Lifting his body from his side, he arched his back and crawled up between her widely parted thighs, holding his cock in his hand and running the smooth rubbery head along the wetly pulsing slit of her hungrily revolving cunt.

Her lewdly sprawled body was thrashing uncontrollably now and her head was moving from side to side, tossing her hair in every direction as he rubbed the aching opening of her cunt with the bulbous tip of his massive cock. She reached out with her arms gripped tightly the up-raised ass-cheeks of her husband, trying to pull him deep up into the broiling depths of her wantonly aroused pussy. He was too strong for her, and nothing she could do would make him fuck deeper into her cunt than he wanted. Reaching from his ass to his cock, she stroked the tightly stretched skin up and down again and again as she tried to make him want to fuck his cock as deeply up into her seething cunt as he could.

Larry was resting on his knees and fore-arms, holding his cock poised at the hungrily nibbling opening of his new wife's gyrating cunt, ready to plunge into her seethingly hot depths at a moments notice. Now that she was stroking his cock, that moment was coming nearer. 'This hot little bitch really wants it,' he thought to himself. 'And I aim to give it to her.'

Her stroking was making his penis swell even more, now that he had placed it so close to her hotly revolving little cunt, and he wanted to drive it into her searing gushiness all the way to her belly. Holding his prick in one hand, he rubbed it along the cum-drenched pink, lips of her cunt, searing a path along the palpitating lips with the heatedness of his glowing tip. Letting go of his lust-expanded cock, he removed her hands from the burgeoned organ and, taking a deep breath, lowered his pelvis slowly, pushing his heavily swollen rod inch by inch passed the quivering oiled lips of her cunt, stretching her tight little pussy opening wide with the size of his massive cock. Slowly he wormed it up into the sensuous soft, walls of her cunt.

Ann felt as though she were being fucked deliciously apart with his monstrously swollen cock. Her whole cunt was on fire as he tucked his cock deeper and deeper up into the hotly seething depths of her pussy. There seemed to be no end to its huge, thick length as he continued to slither it relentlessly up between the gushing folds of her cunt. Farther and farther he drove his cock into her vagina until, finally, he touched the sex-hardened tip of her womb up inside, causing her to constrict her body as a wave of lascivious, lust-enraged pain seared through her love- wracked body. A surging rush of intensely fiery liquid heat coursed through her, racing along her quivering thighs and circled her cunt. She had never been fucked by such a large cock before, and she was determined that she was going to enjoy every moment, every belly-stretching thrust of his penis up into her seething wet depths. She arched her hips and with her vaginal muscles, his cock still deeper into her hotly boiling cunt, pressing it tighter against her inner cunt walls. A blinding flash of white-hot flame seared across her inner eye as his cock tip slipped deeper into her, and instantly he was bobbin his ass up and down, fucking in and out of her with wanton delight, matching her upwardly grinding thrusts with his own plunges deep into her pussy.

Larry's cock was surrounded with the buttery softness of Ann's cunt, and he delighted in the warm, heated tightness of her cum-lubricated little cunt hole was moving around in tiny, desire-driven little circles, dragging his cock with it as she strove to wring from his sperm laden balls every drop of his thick, hot sperm that she could. She reached it with her hands and tightly gripped his heavy driving buttocks, forcing him tightly against her wildly thrashing body. Each time he rammed his cock deeper into the wildly gyrating hole of her passion-slippery cunt, she felt a fresh wave of intense delight race through her body, a fiery sheet of blazing flame that seared and burned wantonly in her cuntal depths, consuming every thought except the constant ramming and driving of his huge, lust-hardened penis. She thrashed and reeled her hips, driving them upwards to meet his deeply plunging cock, and forced the blood-engorged organ to press tighter against the sensitive hardness of her clitoral bud.

Ann was making lewd, throaty moans in time with the wild, rhythmic fucking motions of her husband, and she used the bounciness of the new bed to drive her hips even more forcefully against his thrashing thighs. Again and again she undulated her hips against his, nakedly spread asscheeks slapping hard up against his semen-filled testicles. Her widely parted thighs were trembling as ripple after ripple of lust washed through her body, a blissful pain of wanton desire, desire for nothing except the constant ramming of her husband's massive cock. She was panting in rhythm to his tucking, making short moaning sounds as she began to feel her vaginal walls constrict against the deluge of cum that was building deep up inside her beautifully filled vaginal passage.

"Uh, Uh, Uh, Uh, Uh, Uh."

* * *

David, with his ear pressed tightly against the door, found that his mother's wild, sexually-driven panting was exciting him more than he ever had been before, and his hand was moving more and more quickly along his fourteen year old cock. He was feeling something he had never felt before. A sort of liquid fire rising along his swollen shaft and pressing against the head of his prick. He thought that there was something wrong with the feeling, but it felt so good that he could not stop stroking his cock. He knew that there was something about the stroking and the sounds that were coming from the bedroom that was making him feel the way he did, but although he didn't know exactly what it was, he was sure that he liked it.

He found that his pants were making it hard for him to stroke his cock like he wanted to, so he unbuckled his pants and allowed them to drop to the floor, exposing his cock, small and immensely swollen.

As soon as his pants had fallen to the floor, he was able to increase the speed of his stroking, something he did instinctively. Again and again he allowed his hands to rub along his cock in time to the panting and wild, wet fucking sounds he heard coming from the bedroom. His thighs were quivering as he stood and masturbated, and with each stroke, he could feel the pressure of the searing liquid fire press harder and harder against the glowing red tip of his cock. It was like nothing he ever felt before, and he was going to remember this sensation in the time to come. He began to close his eyes and picture his mother the way he had seen her once when she was taking a shower, her beautiful naked pussy rubbing along the length of her towel. Somehow, the memory of his mother's cunt excited him even more, and he began to see a relationship between his swollen cock and his mother's cunt. He knew that he wanted to place his hand on his mother's pussy, wanted to finger-fuck his fingers deep into her cunt, but most of all, he wanted to ram his cock again and again into her hotly seething pussy, the way he knew his step-father was doing now. He wanted to fuck his mother more than he wanted anything else in the world, but he couldn't as long as she was being fucked by Larry!

His mother's constant and quickening moans and pants were sending delirious ripples of delight along his spine, and he arched his back and began his own muffled whispers as he strained to hear what was going on inside the bedroom

* * *

Ann was swinging her hips and ass crazily, tossing and thrashing her body like a woman possessed as Larry quickened his violent cunt fucking. Larry's cock was like a moving torch in her cunt, and she could feel it press against her vaginal walls, the inner membranes tightening as they tried to hold back the flood of cum Larry's thick, long penis was wringing from her hungrily seething depths. Each inward, cunt-lip flattening thrust increased the fires raging nearly out of control in her vagina, and she was forced to grit her teeth and tighten her whole body to prevent it from flooding his penis with her impatiently building cum too soon.

Larry was feeling his own cum race along the full length of his cock and gather forcefully at the head of the heavily pumping organ. He tightened his pubic muscles and held his breath as he felt that, with each long hard fuck up into the buttery softness of her slippery hole, his sperm was about to explode out from his cock into her belly. Her pussy lips were grasping tightly on his deeply fucking hardened organ, but they were so well lubricated that his penis slid in and out of her gyrating pussy with grace and ease. Plunging his cock again and again into the supple warmth of her yielding pussy passage, Larry tightened his teeth and tensed his pubic muscles against the burgeoning rush of semen filling the cum-filled tip of his cock. Each time he drove and rammed his cock deeper and deeper into her hotly spread cunt lips, a fresh wave of sperm pressed against the bulbous, rubbery tip.

Then suddenly, in an act of wanton lust, Ann arched her legs up and wrapped them around the lower part of Larry's back, driving her hips upwards and stretching her pussy-hole even wider for him to fuck. She locked her ankles around his and thrashed her hips up and down and around in little circles, tossing her body as through she were trying to rid herself of some demon. She bucked and jerked her hips brutally and violently, slapping the hair fringed slit of her nearly cumming cunt against his pussy slapping balls, her actions squeezing his semen bloated cock again and again as she felt her vaginal walls begin to relax and prepare to flood her hotly working cuntal passage with the heated liquid of her warm, wet cum. Her whole body tightened convulsively, and she arched her widely stretched pussy lips as hard as she could, driving Larry's near bursting cock deeply into her quivering, thrashing cunt and allowed her cum to rush out, the surging wave of hot clear juices filling her cuntal chamber and gushing back out from between her painfully stretched pussy lips in a torrentious wash of lust and bliss. She opened her eyes widely and her mouth emitted a scream of utter delight.

"I'm... I'm ccccc... ccuummiinngggg! Aaaaaahhhhhh!!"

Her whole body quivered violently, thrashing and tossing on the bed as she felt her whole being swept away in a torrential wash of orgasmic frenzy. The cataractic wash of cum seared through her vagina and rushed in a violent current against the deeply thrusting penis ramming in and out of her cunt as it flowed out from between her hotly sucking pussy lips and trickled down her creamy smooth thighs. Again and again she tightened her vaginal muscles and forced every drop of her crystal clear feminine juices through her cuntal passage, drowning Larry's cock in a sea of her love juice as her mind became a blank to everything except the blinding flash of lust that seared across her inner eye.

Larry could feet her body tighten and tense, and he knew that he, too, was cumming, and no power on earth would be able to prevent it. Again and again he tucked his cock deeper and deeper into the seething, flooding chamber of her butter soft vagina, and as she bucked and jerked her body beneath his, he felt that his sperm pressing against the swollen penis tip with an unbelievable pressure. As he felt his cock being washed and drowned in the river of her cum, he rammed his cock to erupt deep in her vagina, spurting his sperm forcefully inward against the outward rushing torrent of her feminine juices. Taking a deep breath, he brutally rammed his cock into the wetly gushing hole and exploded the monumental flood of his semen far up into her open belly as he emitted a violent cry of his own orgasm,

"I... I'm cumming in it!!! Jjjeeesssuuusss!"

The first surge of his thick, milky white semen pumped into the flowing eddies of her own wetly roaring cum as he rammed his cock into her cunt fully to the hilt, slapping his heavily erupting balls against the nakedness of her asshole and smearing their mingled juices in a searing liquid fire that burned a wild path of lust as it trickled down his thighs and into their wetly intertwined pubic hairs.

Together Larry and Ann groaned and smacked their nakedly erupting bodies against each other as they tried to keep their orgasmic frenzy at the dizzying fury they were experiencing, but all too soon they were forced to slow their movements as they exhausted themselves' with the totality of their first fuck on their new bed. Finally, Ann stopped her movements altogether as she regained control of her orgasm-wracked body, her cunt still blazing with the sensitive walls of her vagina pulsing slightly to force the final drops of her cum out through the quivering pussy lips still holding tightly onto Larry's now slowly shrinking penis. At last, Larry too, slowed his thrusting, the final remnants of her sperm collecting at the tip of his Cock and making his penis glisten with the thin film of her cum and his sperm.

Larry rolled off the trembling body of his wife, slipping his cock from her wetly flooded cunt as he did so, and lay on his back, panting to catch his breath. For a long time, neither of them said anything as they breathed deeply and loudly, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Ann sighed deeply and turned her naked, sweat-gleaming body to look into her husband's dark eyes.

"I think this bed will do just fine," she whispered into his ear, running her hand along the length of his body and enveloping his wet cock with her slender fingers.

"As long as it's you," he hissed, still trying to collect his breath, "I'd fuck on a bed of nails."

She smiled at him and brushed a passionate kiss on his surprised mouth.

* * *

David's hand moved with blurring speed along his swollen shaft, and he could hear his mother's scream of orgasm. Even though he couldn't see what was happening, he knew what she had meant when she said she was cumming, and as he felt his pubic muscles all of a sudden relax, he heard Larry's voice saying he was blowing his wad. Instantly, as he imagined his cock ramming and plunging into his mother's hotly quaking cunt, his hand was covered with the sticky, thick whiteness of his own sperm, and his mind was ablaze with the all-consuming passions of his masturbation. He had never felt anything like this before, and for the first moments he was frightened. But it felt so good that he kept up his penis stroking, and allowed the jetting sperm to wash onto his hand again and again, all the while thinking of his mother's soft, fur-ringed cunt surrounding his deeply fucking young cock.

Finally, just like his mother and step-father, he, too, began to slow his movements, biting his lower lip to keep from yelling mindlessly in his utter bliss. It was incredible. It was an all-consuming failing that washed through his body in pumping, surging waves, blazing through his loins and making his thighs quiver and tremble, but even as he stroked his cock with an additional fervor, he could sense that it was over, that he had spent his sexual passion and it would not come back for some time.

Pressing his ear to the door again, he could hear nothing except the low, muffled conversation his parents were having. He hated Larry even more, now, hated him like nothing else on the earth. He knew he had fucked his mother crazy, and what was worse, his mother had loved it. She actually wanted Larry to do it to her? The answer was obvious. His mother still thought of him as a little boy. She didn't know that his cock could get as hard as it was now. Well, he thought as he picked up his pants and crept down the stairs, making sure that he was neither seen or heard, he'd show her. He had a cock that was better than Larry's, and he was going to see to it that his mother got nothing but the best.

Chapter 2 coming soon

[allyvampirelass29]

Goodnight, Chris McQueen

A NOS4A2 Review By: Allyssa J. Watkins

I love you, Brat I hope you know that....... My biggest fear was becoming my old man Drinkin', philanderin', livin' for nothin' I wanted so much more for my little girl But Babe, I'm just like him A haunted soldier That never came back from the war I tried so hard to make you laugh Just so you didn't see me cryin' Funny names, and stupid jokes I guess, don't band-aid the holes Punched through the walls and in Your mother's heart Jesus, maybe this dad thing Was a cosmic hoax right from the start I love you like a big dog I'd die twice just to give you a hug Before I go, I want you to know I'm proud of my kid I could never do what you did It's like you told your ma You're made of steel, Vic You threw the bottle away You sure as hell didn't need me But you let your broken down dad save the day I ain't half the hero to you though As you are to Wayne Give 'em HELL, Babe Fight the good fight Don't cry over me I won't die as I lived A good for nothin' It's gonna mean somethin' I gotta believe Don't stay here, Brat, trapped in my death scene Remember the good stuff, when they say "Goodnight, Chris McQueen."

In the words of the illustrious Linda McQueen........ "Holy HELL." It's been days, and I've been in a morose fog, only just now emerging, shaking and fighting the tears, even as I write this, half numb, and half agony. I'm shocked, dismayed, and altogether fragile. The second I saw that this episode was going to be called, "Chris McQueen," I couldn't have been more thrilled, and my heart soared, excited! Chris McQueen has SHINED this season, our own resident white knight, slaying Vic's demons, both of the vice, and supernatural variety. It was no mistake, or random shuffle of fate, that her magic bridge led her back to her dad. He's been a gun-wielding, bomb-making, godsend!!! He helped her quit drinking, heartbroken that his little girl had inherited his disastrous coping mechanisms, refusing to let it drown her the way it did him. He's fought at her side, let her lean on him, he's become her safe place. He's given her the best advice about fighting for Lou, choosing her family, and oh yeah, he SINGLEHANDEDLY took on Bing Partridge, not just once, but TWICE!!!

If NOS4A2 has a CHAMPION, a dark horse in the game, it's hands down Chris McQueen. If anyone is deserving of their own personal, entitled episode, it's the vindicated father who did the work, fought like HELL for his redemption, made himself a better person for his daughter. That rush of flooding joy, cooled to wary concern, and hesitant dread, however, when I realized....... This honour could be his final tribute.......

Don't kill Chris McQueen........ I pleaded over and over in my mind, the frantic cry, resounding, even as I pressed play. I hadn't been able to shake that sinister, creeping feeling all day, and when we opened onto Chris at a funeral, my relief flooded in, graciously thankful to see him alive!!! Wait, he looked younger, like WAY younger, even younger than the first season, and oh my god, hold on, whose funeral is this!? Someone died........ my stomach knotting again, trying to figure out who, and we realize that this is Chris, decades ago, speaking at his Dad's funeral.

I loved, and I mean LOVED this opener. It's just so beautifully real, and one hundred percent Chris McQueen, as he muses about his father's life, and his own, and how the two came to mirror each other. He's funny, irreverent, vulnerable, and by the end, absolutely heartbreaking. It's a searing portrait of a broken man, and everything that caused his life to fracture, every death, that made him wish he was never born.

"When I came back from the gulf, I finally understood why he was pissed off all the time, because he knew there was no reason for him to born, and that nobody was going to give a shit when he died."

Chris' voice cracks, and my eyes sting, because I feel it, his greatest fear, and I know he's not just talking about his father, he's talking about himself, effectually delivering his own eulogy, and again I implored the fates...... Don't kill Chris McQueen.

Aaaaaaaaah, and HELLO Baby Vic!!! Oh my gosh, she's so precious, about eight years old, frowning as her father speaks, huddled close to her mother, and then when Chris becomes too overwhelmed with his anger and emotions to go on, tearing out of the church, she frantically chases after him, calling for him!!! Even then, she was her daddy's girl!!! Once again, I must COMMEND NOS4A2 for choosing the perfect miniature of our badass leading lady, because this girl is the very IMAGE of Ashleigh, and it was such a joy to see her fierce features, and resolve, in a dear little face!!! More Baby Vic, PLEASE!!!

Flashforward to the present day, and Team McQueen is ready and raring to hit the road. I loved this entire scene. The love between her and Lou as she tells him goodbye, and says, "I'm going to go get our boy." An achingly beautiful moment, these two give me life, and have become my FAVOURITE couple on the show!!! I may have been purely Team Drew Butler, Season One, but now I can't imagine our beautiful badass without her Teddy Bear Man, and I ship McCarmody so freaking hard!!! Vic revs the Triumph's engine, testing it, gearing up with her Dad, and it hits me....... She doesn't have to hide it, sneak away to go do her Creative Hero thing, he accepts her for exactly who she is, believes in her gift enough to go with her. For the first time..... Vic McQueen isn't riding alone........

Linda is an absolute rollicking delight, emphatic in her protest, and I have just come to LOVE her so much!!! "I don't know about this Vicki, taking explosives across a magical bridge IN THE RAIN!!!!" God BLESS this woman, she's so maternal here, and I love it, I see how much she's changed, becoming this mother and ex wife even, that isn't afraid to express her feelings and doubts, no longer shackled by the fear that she's destined to be alone.

"You're my only kid, Vicki, My Baby."

"You know me, Ma, made of steel, remember?"

Awwwwww oh my gosh, so freaking CUTE, and for the first time, they feel like a real family, The McQueen Clan on a Mission, slaying psychotic kidnappers, and rescuing lost children, becoming the family business. Linda's still unsure, hurrying after Chris and Vic, still thinking they're both CRAZY, when she sees it for the first time....... Her eyes widen impossibly, as a rickety, wooden, covered bridge, appears on the street in front of them, and her reaction is EVERYTHING we've been waiting for, I found myself, leaping off the couch, cheering as she says it. "Holy HELL!!!"

Chris' childlike wonder, as he looks up into the dark eves, and watches the bats flutter, the Triumph roaring through the beams of breaking light, weaving in and out of shadow, is such a joy to behold. He believed in it, believed in her, even without seeing, and it means that much more to Vic, you can tell. It's also symbolic, Vic sharing her world with her father, bringing him into her inscape, fighting the good fight TOGETHER, both soldiers. I loved it, every second.

Surprise, surprise, when they roll up to the junkyard, Bing Partridge isn't dead, because some cockroaches just won't DIE!!!! Like an AVENGING ANGEL, Chris McQueen is all of us, flying off that bike, and assailing Bing with murderous fury, backhanding his stupid face with the gun, over and over, impaling him deeper with the protruding rod, and I swear, I wanted to run to him, and HUG him so tightly, so freaking PROUD!!!! THANK YOU, CHRIS MCQUEEN!!!

"Where is he, you SICK, Son of a BITCH!?!?"

"HE CAN'T HELP US IF HE'S DEAD!!!!!"

Vic screams at her father, angrily chastising this good and proper beating that has been a LONG time coming!!!! I'm sorry, isn't that how ANY sane person would react to a sadistic, murdering, rapist whose made their life a LIVING HELL!? What gives, Victoria!? Chris falls back, as confused as I was, and then shakes his head, as he apologizes vehemently, which Vic is having none of. She's AWFUL to her father from this moment forward, rude and spiteful, blaming him for everything, and as much as I love the girl, in this unjust punishment, she REALLY lives up to her nickname, Brat.

This Kids Glove approach to Bing Partridge is MADDENING enough to make me PSYCHOTIC!!! BING. IS. EVIL. Say it with me, NOS4A2!!!! It's like they are hellbent on redeeming the ONE character that is beyond saving, a man that even God, himself, would look at reviled, and say, "Get thee behind me, SATAN!!!" Last week they failed, first through the deus ex machina epiphany, and then through the attempted murder/suicide, so they tried even harder, using a meeker approach, making him say manipulative propaganda like, "I wish I'd never met Mr. Manx, because then Vic McQueen would still be my friend." and "I'm all alone in here, and it's really scary." Ughhhh somebody, anybody, put us out of our misery, and put one right between his beady little rat bastard eyes.

I almost understand Tabitha's need to keep things professional, and speak to Bing, in a reassuring way that reaches his simple, monosyllabic mind. I get that beating the living hell out of him like he so obviously deserves isn't an option for her, but this man is a HEINOUS criminal, who's kidnapped kids, drugged and raped their mothers, KILLED both of his parents, not to mention TORTURED Charlie within an inch of his life, only just last week!!!! But by ALL MEANS, Vic, go HOLD HANDS WITH HIM, and see if that will help get your son back!!!! Cringe.

I HATED this, so, so, SO much!!! Bing was her friend, he betrayed her, violated the trust between them, became her worst nightmare, shot at her, traumatized her, duct-taping her to a chair, she should HATE him, despise the sight of him far more than Charlie Manx!!! I CRAVED a reckoning, even if it was just a verbal assault. But no, instead, Vic decides to play nice, and I get that most of it was an act to convince him to help her get her son back, but I could also feel NOS4A2's misguided hand in her actions. Look, see, even Vic can find the good in Bing!!!! Sigh. Not gonna lie, I was going to scream bloody murder if she said she forgives him!!!

Good Cop pays off, however, and Bing, desperate for Vic's forgiveness, reveals there is one more stop before Christmasland, one last chance to grab Wayne, when he gets out of the Wraith at Sleigh House to hang his ornament. It's a dawning revelation, intel quintessential to their success, and for once they know where Charlie is going to be, before he gets there, and can lay a trap for him and his indestructible car. I hate the way they arrived at the information though, I'd have much preferred to see Bing suffer for his sins, and the whole interaction is just so laughably implausible. I will say this however, there was a rather BEAUTIFUL line in this scene that Bing couldn't begin to deserve, but I LOVED it all the same. "I miss the person I thought you were." My god, that's powerful.

"Chris McQueen," is a STELLAR episode, full of beautiful lines like this, including my FAVOURITE thing that Maggie has EVER said to Vic, which perfectly exemplifies their eccentric friendship!!! "I'd shank a thousand assholes for your mopey ass!!!" YES!!! I LOVE THAT SO MUCH!!! I will say though, that I was SHOCKED at how cool Vic was with Maggie's scary new trick of hurting herself to use her powers, sans seizures. I thought she was going to kick her butt for that!!! I'm really worried, Guys, this is a dangerous addiction, that's going to be the hardest one yet for Mags to quit!!! The break-up with Tabitha was bittersweet, but it did not come as a shock to me. They'd been drifting apart for awhile now, and I feel like Maggie was so scared of losing her, that she was afraid to be herself. "I want to live in the real world all the time." For me, that was the nail in the coffin, having only heard it about a thousand times myself. Maggie will always be living in two worlds, and whoever she's with MUST accept that. They love each other, yes, but they just want different things. I do respect Tabitha so much for not demanding that Maggie give up her tiles, threatening to leave her if she didn't. She'd rather let Maggie go be herself, be happy, than try to stifle her, shove her into that hateful, constricting little box called normal.

Vic continues to be petty, and spiteful towards her father, treating him WAY too harshly, punishing him, when he's done nothing but fight for her, a literal action HERO, avenging Wayne, and kicking ASS!!! It hurt my soul, and I could see the pain in his eyes, thinking he'd failed her, apologizing again, just wanting her forgiveness. The second scene at the McQueen house is a far less fuzzy one, as she forbids her father to come with her, placing all the blame of every bad thing that's happened thus far on his shoulders, and she cuts him with razor edged words, saying the worst thing that she could have possibly said in that moment, something truly unforgivable, that I already know she will spend the rest of her life, regretting.

"I lived eight years of my life without you, Dad, and I can just as easily do it again." She sneers, and even Linda stares, aghast. "Vicki, no, you don't mean that!!!"

I felt the pangs in my heart, stunned that she could be that vicious to her own father, after all he's done for her, getting sober, changing his whole life, hell, getting HER sober!!! Linda is again so adorable, insisting she take Chris with her, like "Vicki let your father play on your magical bridge, if he wants!!!" not wanting him to feel left out, and while I want more father/daughter explosive awesomeness, I'm conflicted whether or not he should go. If he stays here...... he's safe. Eventually Linda's persuasion wins out. "Don't let your anger towards your father, keep you from getting back Wayne." With a frustrated sigh, Vic shoves a black helmet in Chris' hands, and we're off to the races again. "Bring them home," Linda whispers sweetly, embracing him tight, and as they hug, I get the most sinking feeling that it's for the last time. Dont...... Don't kill, Chris Mcqueen.

Vic and Chris work in silence, once they get to the charred foundation of Sleigh House in Colorado, burying the handmade bombs, and finally Chris can't take it anymore. "Is this how you want it, Brat?" He asks her, heartbroken, and Ashleigh's acting is PHENOMENAL, as she breaks down and reveals the truth behind her unprovoked animosity.

"It's easier to be mad at you, than to blame myself."

"None of this is your fault. Charlie Manx is not your fault."

"I want to forgive you, because if I don't, how can Wayne ever forgive me. But I can't just let myself off the hook!!!"

It's not entirely a make-up, but it's an important conversation, something she's been wrestling with for a long time. Chris is again AMAZING, consoling her, easing her guilt, even while she's the one that's been impossible. Again Vic, I love you, but your father did the absolute RIGHT thing, and he's the only one that did right by Bing, as far as I'm concerned.

Maggie and Lou join the dynamite father/daughter duo in Colorado, and I LOVED all of their scenes together, the two people in this world that Vic McQueen loves most, and there's something magical about it, something iconic, seeing all three of them together, the Creative Dream Team, united in their crusade against Charlie Manx.

"Every one of these ornaments represents a kid in Christmasland, lost forever. Do you think there's a way to get them back? The other kids?"

WHEN SOULS FALL.

Maggie stares down, perplexed at the tiles, as she arranges them, revealing to the oracle this cryptic, mysticism, and I myself, could NOT breathe. Holy SMASH. Ever since the end of, "Gunbarrel," where Vic wanders through the trees outside Sleigh House, frowning at them, the hundreds of glittering ornaments, swaying in the wind, glowing as she drew near, I just knew...... I KNEW the souls of the Lost Children, were trapped inside each and every one of them, and this suspicion was ever further confirmed, when she found Bradley's canoe ornament, broken open on the ground, after he burnt up in the Wraith. My prediction? To turn the kids back, they have to smash every single one of these ornaments, and only then can the escaped souls return to their vampire shells, and make them human again. The minute a child hangs an ornament, the transformation is complete.

I also LOVED the transcendent scene between Vic and Millie, a scared little girl, in over her head, calling, pleading through the static, and I couldn't help but MARVEL at how much has changed between them. Last Season Millie Manx was very much her father's daughter, cruelly taunting Vic, on her father's behalf, even appearing to her while she was awake, stabbing her with an invisible sword. Now, she calls out to her to be her saviour, her father's greatest enemy, the iron wrought armour of her inherited hatred falling away, and Vic sees her as she always was, not a hollowed out demon spawn, but just a frightened little girl that needs to be set free. I was also THRILLED that dear little Millie imparted the knowledge that Charlie CANNOT die, else all the children, including his daughter, will die with him. Vic abhors Charlie with a screaming vengeance, but now that she knows his death comes at the cost of every child he's ever taken, she won't kill him, she CAN'T kill him, because then all of this, everything she's fought so hard for, bled for, would be for nothing.

The final act is both the thrilling BEST and the incoherent WORST of the episode, as the chaotic music ominously heralds our man's arrival. Charlie Manx, cutting a dashing, imposing silhouette, dark against the hazy dusk, exits the Wraith, turning every which way, striking in profile, floating smoothly across the front of the car, to let Wayne out. I loved this aesthetic, Charlie moving swiftly through the mist and dying light, rising as the threatened dark, enclosing. It's beautiful, and serves two clever purposes. One, to shroud our debonair dark menace in all the more intrigue and mystery, and the other, to conceal just how bad Wayne's gotten. Charlie clasps his hands around Wayne's shoulders lovingly, the picture of paternal pride, and my heart caught, seeing Wayne in the cast light, his boyish curls, frayed and almost white, his skin covered in white blue veins, every one of his teeth, coming to a sharp point.

"Go on, My Boy, it's time to hang your ornament," Charlie chortles handing Wayne the CUTEST little gray, baby bat ornament, I have ever seen, urging him forward. "Choose any branch you like, just make sure it's a SPECIAL branch," Charlie crows, and my heart melts, so in love with both of them, and the way Charlie dotes on him, knowing that while this began as a revenge plot, Charlie has come to love and favour Wayne, like the son he never had. "Don't dilly dally," He warns adorably, with an eyebrow raise, and even this mild scold is too precious for words.

Charlie waits by the Wraith, already nervous, as little Wayne disappears into the grove of trees. I LOVED the Wraith's ADORABLE warning system, as it flashes danger, the car horn honking, and even more I loved Charlie's distressed reaction to it, hurrying over, brow knit, like a father racing to tend to and protect his frightened child. Can I just have this impossibly PERFECT man, that darling little curly-haired boy, and this pretty, shiny car, PLEASE!?!?

"Smart Car," I whisper to myself, as the Wraith senses Vic's presence, and the waiting bombs beneath the ground. Charlie, alarmed, jumps back into his car, to seek out what's got the Wraith in such a tizzy, racing away, and leaving young Wayne behind. If there was ever a time, to save Wayne, it is NOW!!! NOW, Maggie, grab him NOW!!!! Here's where things start to unravel for me as far as character motivation and realistic ability is concerned. Yes, I get that Wayne's appearance is terrifying for her, that she doesn't know what she's walking into as she approaches him, but there is NO WAY Margaret Leigh, Oracle Extraordinaire, Hourglass SLAYER, would just cower, and watch as Wayne hangs his ornament. Nope, sorry. Wayne isn't even all the way a vampire yet, he's in transition, and the FEARLESS girl that I know and love, would have grabbed him, reassured him, while she wrested the ornament from his hands, and SMASHED it!!! Wayne's soul flies back into his body, crying as he clings to his Aunt Mags, Charlie is thwarted, and everybody lives happily ever after. End Scene.

But no, Maggie, in an uncharacteristic move, waits until Wayne has ALREADY hung his ornament, and then approaches him fearfully. I will admit I was a little nervous too..... Wayne, Darling, NO BITING Aunt Maggie!!! Wayne bares his vampire teeth, and raises his vampire claws in an adorable scare, with the cutest little growl ever, laughing cheerfully as he chases Maggie through the trees, clearly thinking it's a game.

Meanwhile, Charlie bristles as he sees the glowing headlights of Vic's motorcycle up ahead, piercing through the descended dark. His annoyance is obvious, but you can almost sense his secret excitement, at having one last chance to kill her.

"Gunning for Mother of the Year?" Charlie scoffs, amused, looking hot as hell behind the Wraith, clenching the steering wheel, his head down, eyes narrowed and full of smouldering, black intent. It's a FANTASTIC face-off, as the Wraith screams down into the open field, Chris pressing HARD on the detonator, and the first bomb goes off in a spray of dirt and billowing smoke. Again here's where I found myself more than a little bit incredulous, wondering WHAT THE HELL IS THE WRAITH MADE OF!?!? I even giggled to myself, remembering what Chris had said. "I don't care if he's in a GOD DAMNED tank!!!" The Wraith remains unscathed, the gleaming black paint, not so much as scratched, as a second bomb, and then a third go off beneath it, to no detriment. Really!? The Wraith is NOT a tank, it's not even armoured, and while yes, it's a supernatural entity, it CANNOT DEFY THE LAWS OF PHYSICS!!! Baby, I'm sorry, I'm so don't want to see you harmed, but you put a blast beneath that undercarriage, it is going to send that car FLYING, flipping it over at the very least!!!

Back in the grove of trees, Wayne, still chasing Maggie, stops cold when Lou calls out to him.

"Dad..... is that you?" THANK GOD, I cry out tearfully, as Wayne recognizes him, and in a very human moment, runs and hugs his father so tight, snuggling his little head to his shoulder, Lou sighing relieved, as he holds his son at last. Happy tears become angry ones, however, and at first I was LIVID with Wayne, horrified as he sinks his tiny little fangs into Lou's shoulder, biting him hard. DON'T BITE YOUR FATHER!!!!! Why, Wayne, WHY!? But the second time I watched this episode, I noticed something soooo very important. Wayne doesn't show any signs of hostility, poses NO threat, UNTIL the first bomb goes off. This is NO coincidence. Charlie, you're too clever for your own good!!! I suspect, that once the transformation is complete, and the kids are connected to Father Christmas, they can sense when he's in danger, and their innate attack instinct takes over!!! Freaking brilliant, and yet also terrifying!!!

Vic curses under her breath, her foot slamming on the gas, helplessly, as the Triumph won't start, her knife failing her, as the Wraith, screams at her like a shot bullet, promising vengeance, and Charlie smirks, sadistic, knowing he's about to end this....... "Say Goodnight, Vic McQueen."

My heart clenches in my chest, barely breathing, the tears flooding my vision, watching through blurry eyes, knowing what he's going to do, before he even does it. Chris McQueen hurtles himself in front of Vic, selflessly sacrificing his life for hers, and the Wraith runs him over, crushing the back of his legs. as he collides with it. I screamed, I sobbed, and shook violently, stunned because my prayers had been answered....... Chris McQueen, has miraculously SURVIVED. He's alive...... he's alive...... I whisper, reassuring myself. While he's far from okay, surely suffering two crushed legs, unable to move, I'm just so happy to see him still breathing, still fighting.

"Perfect timing, Wayne," Charlie snickers, Vic screaming, "NO!" as Wayne hops back into the car. This is it, this is the moment, where it all goes so wrong. Charlie's holding all the cards, he's got Wayne in the car, he's subdued Vic and her father, neither of them can so much as move, and he listens, drinking in their anguished cries. All he had to do was drive away....... It was over. It was SUPPOSED to be over.

"Chris McQueen, a disappointment of a man, just like your father," Charles snarls, and I AM BEGGING him to stop, bawling, pleading frantic, my terrified voice shrill. "BABY NO!!!! BABY STOP!!! DON'T KILL CHRIS, PLEASE GOD, CHARLIE!!!!!" Tapping into a darkness, donning a heartlessness, unbecoming of our gentleman villain, Charlie looks Vic in the eye, as he does it, snapping Chris' neck with lethal force, killing him purely out of spite. The episode ends with her broken, mournful sob, and Chris' slain gaze, his eyes still full of tears, staring blankly at the camera.

My pain is deafening, my sorrow beyond all hope of any coherent expression as NOS4A2 suffers its greatest loss to date. It's an empty gesture, a callous act, uncharacteristic of the man that I love with all my heart, but who has hurt me something profound with this senseless murder. In what kind of CRUEL world, does an innocent man, who sacrifices himself for his daughter, who fought for eight years to be the kind of father she deserved, have to die, while an indecent evil like Bing Partridge gets to live!? Charlie, HOW could you!? This...... There's no honour in this. Charlie kills only as a last resort, and only in defense, he has a strict moral code, and is vehemently against violence without cause. This was unfeeling, unnecessary, and soulless. Yes, he knew Chris was a bad father from before, but surely in witnessing the valiant manner in which he'd flung himself in front of the car, with no thought for his own life, Charlie would have found him redeemed, he would have seen a father who'd do anything to protect his daughter, not so different from himself, and he would have felt SOMETHING!!!

Goodnight, Chris McQueen. You fought the good fight, you changed and made things right, and now at last you can find peace....... My heart is so heavy, I can't hold it, and crying here, I want him to know how wrong he was, thinking nobody would mourn him when he died. A thousand cry out, stricken with grief. Husband, Father, White Knight Redeemed, here lies Chris McQueen, a HERO who didn't die for nothing.........

#nos4a2 #nos4a2 review #chris mcqueen #vic mcqueen #linda mcqueen #wayne mcqueen #charlie manx #maggie leigh #bing partridge

[sorabeebb]

After reading a lot of fics and imagines, I decided to write and post something about my Oc and Reno during the events of Before Crisis 😊

Hope you like it! And I’m sorry if Reno is out of character and if there’re mistakes, english isn’t my first language.

Pairing: Reno x Oc (Neila)

Warnings: swearing, blood,torture, mentions of dead.

Word count : 3024

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The deafening sound that was being made by the chopper’s propeller didn’t give a chance to strike up a conversation. The long ride to the proximities of Nibelheim was spent in complete silence between the two Turks and the SOLDIER. It wasn’t uncommon during war times that the brute-strength from SOLDIER and the slyly approach, a Turk’s trait, were paired up when required. Although the built-up rivalry between the two sections could be almost touched. 

Tseng ,on one of the two pilot seats, never took part in these meaningless arguments. He thought both divides had their purposes to benefit Shinra interests. The Turks were more suitable for works which didn’t need a straight strike like  SOLDIERs were. Of course they had to deal with more or less undesirable tasks but Turks were more refined than that. 

However Reno at his left, on the other pilot seat was everything a Turk shouldn’t be. He had got a big mouth, usually tried to pick up fights with SOLDIERs, with obnoxious ways of doing missions but he was good accomplishing them nevertheless. Tseng had to give that to him. 

On the other hand was Neila, a second-class SOLDIER,  at the back of the chopper. Tseng had scouted her some years prior in Junon, dragging her out of that fortified  town straight to the SOLDIER tests. He had seen potential into that teenage girl, which soon was proved. She had a way with magic and an extraordinary stamina. Perhaps she didn’t demonstrate a powerful brute force or strength as most SOLDIERs did, but in reality she had got it after all those mako baths and trainings. Neila had trained her ass to where she was standing.

The ride could have been worse if the airscrew hadn’t plunged the snarky remarks of Reno about the unnecessary presence of a SOLDIER around. 

Tseng just became lost into some mission reports or files just after Reno had taken the helicopter off, , whilst Neila had brought some book with her to read at the back seats calmly.  

After almost six hours of riding, Tseng took control of the chopper. “The last sighting of Hideki was of him heading to the mountains. Some trail must have been left behind. Find him and recover the files he has stolen. Then put them back into the Shinra Manor” He repeated the main parts of their mission.. 

“Gotcha.” Reno confirmed, stepping to the doors, while Neila gave just a nod as acknowledge.

“Don’t get yourselves into fights. Discretion, Reno!” Tseng called the red-haired Turk out.” is a must.” He still didn’t understand why Veld had chosen him for this mission. Other Turks would have been more suitable for this task, but Veld suspected Avalanche had something to do with it. Furthermore, the stolen goods were important classified op about secret experiments, which had been made years ago. He guessed the third in command Turk was the best option at his boss’ eyes. 

Tseng would retreat to Rocket Town, something about another mission of his, where he would wait till Reno notified him theirs was complete.

Jumping off, Reno and Neila fell over the rocky floor. Fresh and clean air filled their nostrils rapidly. They had landed far from the village, in the mountain chains surrounding it. 

Neila tensed up the same moment her feet touched the field. An odd grieving feeling started to overwhelm her, with a rhythmic pounding, beating softly at the sides of her head. She assumed the lack of rest was the reason behind it.    

A sour grimace appeared upon Reno’s face. He hated the countryside with all of his being. He had grown up in the slums, used to the mako steam filling the air, and although he was the first one to say the slums were garbage, Midgar felt like home, and all that rural areas with its nature and clean air sickened him. 

“ Let’s finish this fucking shit as soon as possible “ Reno said, pocketing out a cigarette, and lighting it up. Both of them strode up the hills, scouting the fields for any signs of Hideki. 

“You know smoking is bad for your health, right?” Neila spoke once she kneeled down before some footsteps. The headache fading away with each step they took farther.

“ And what?” He retorted after her irritated. She had seen him smoking several times before, often hanging out after a long day at work. What has gotten into her now?  

“ Nothing, just that is bad, I doubt Veld approves his Turks ruining their health. “ She turned her head to look at him. 

“ Lucky for you,  Veld doesn’t have a say about it.” He puffed on his cigar slowly, as a silent challenge. 

“ It’s a bad addiction. Just saying.” She wasn’t that fond of  his harsh attitude, which intimidated and annoyed her. 

“ There are worse addictions. I’ll die first working than from smoking, sweetheart. But your concern touched me.” Sarcasm in his voice, irritating Neila more. “Besides, you’re one to talk.” A SOLDIER trying to lecture him about bad addictions. He felt the urge of laughing at the occurrence. 

“ Suit yourself then.” She gave up about having a civilised conversation with the Turk. “ These footsteps… Hideki must have climbed up to the top. What do you think?” 

Reno kneeled besides her frame,invading her personal space and inspecting the trail. “ What a dimwit.” His cerulean eyes following the tracks ahead them. 

“ Excuse me?” Neila frowned at his words, and stood up on her feet again, glaring at him amazed.  The warmth his figure let off had felt so good against her bare arms.

Reno started to stride up the path, leaving her behind. “ If he’s gonna steal from Shinra, at least he could have tried not to let a sloppy trail of footsteps. Not that I’m complaining though.” He wasn’t, he rather wanted to be back in Midgar soon, but he also liked some type of challenge, not something this… simple. 

“ If you say so… Well,this way we’ll finish the mission in a record time.” 

“ Don’t get your hopes up, sweetheart. These mountains are full of monsters who have been living between mako residues for years. It will be a miracle if Hideki has not been devoured by those freaks yet. “ 

“ That’s why I’ve been deployed too? Because there are mako-contaminated monsters roaming around?” Neila guessed.

Reno didn’t answer her, and just keep on going up to the peak of the mountain, following Hideki’s clues. 

“ Now that I think about it. Does Hideki have anything to do with Wutai?” Neila asked again with curiosity. Brilliant mako eyes searching for the named man around the caves and boulders in their path. 

“ If I tell ya, I’ll have to kill ya.” A cocky smirk curled up his lips, shooting a side glare to the SOLDIER, while he threw the cigarette and stepped on it.  

“ You wouldn’t, not that you could anyway.” A loud laugh burst from him, who bent forward slightly, pulling a hand on his chest. “ What’s so funny?” 

“ Oh, sweetheart, I would, but not before enjoying other things first.” He sent a playful wink towards her, hidden intentions not that well hidden. The attraction between them wasn’t a secret though. 

“ In your dreams Reno.” Neila answered back, folding her arms and rolling her eyes. 

“ Have already done that yo.” Playfulness splattered upon all his features, and enjoying the blushing and embarrassment creeping Neila up. 

They were reaching the top without any unpleasant encounters, yet. Maybe Reno was right,and Hideki had already been eaten up. 

“ I know you’re joking, cut it off.” She ended the talk, ashamed. She would be lying if she said she didn’t think about it before. Even if Reno was insufferable most of the time, he still was attractive with his flashy red hair, blue eyes and those red marks, and without saying his strange selection of customized uniform. And his personality was tempting too, although it pushed her buttons too many times. 

“Oh? You are ashamed now? A strong SOLDIER like you? “ He carried his ironic remarks on, making her still more uncomfortable. 

“ I’m gonna make you swallow that rod of yours unless you shut up.” He was driving her up the wall. 

“ I would like to see ya trying to do it. “ The joking end up abruptly when a cry out for help crossed the air. Both of them ran up the last steps till the top, being welcomed by a hideous scene. 

There was their target, surrounded by a group of what looked like a four mutated praying mantis. Mako influence for sure. A leg and an arm had been ripped off from his body, blood gathering on the rocky land beside him. 

The bugs must have come across the man shortly before them. Unless they finished the monsters off, Hideki would be eaten and no options of getting information from him would be possible. 

Jumping out to action, Reno took his electric rod out, and Neila her sword. Although the mantis weren’t that many, the mako running through their organisms, made them stronger, and a  pain in the ass. 

If Neila remembered right from previous encounters, Mantis’ weak point was ice magic. “ Reno, back off!” She yelled out, while she gently caressed the green materia placed inside her left bracelet’s gauge.

The Turk was about to retort at her, but with his characteristic speed, he retreated back after noticing her intentions. 

The ice magic flew straight across the battlefield, hitting and freezing three of them. 

Now getting rid of the mantis should be a piece of cake.  With three frozen-up, the remaining  one didn’t stand a single chance. 

Lightning trails were drawn around the frozen monsters, followed by unpleasant cries in pain, which would have caused your ears to start bleeding.In the blink of an eye, Reno had wipe those things out with just one strike. 

“Man, I hate the bug-type monsters, I really do.” Neila murmured after taking care of the last one at Hideki’s foot. Her standard SOLDIER sword deeply impaled in its thorax, and some type of purplish blood splashed on her uniform.  

“ Well now, now… What do we have here?” Reno walked slowly, watching the almost limbless man laying down in agony. The facade he had showed previously around her, was replaced by a sadistic and cruel one, sending goosebumps down her spine. 

The SOLDIER wasn’t unaware of the inhuman things the Turks did, but she had never got the opportunity to witness one yet. 

Realization shone in the dark eyes of Hideki. “ A-a Turk!” stuttering, he dragged himself as far as he was able from Reno. “ Please! I didn’t do anything!” 

“ Of course you would say that, wouldn’t ya?”  Reno stepped onto Hideki’s stomach, pinning him down with force, not letting him more room to scape, or keep dragging on. “Now about the files you’ve stolen...Do you still have them on you or did you already give them away?

“ Reno, he’s lost too much blood. He won't…” Neila tried to say watching carefully the blood ponds. 

“ Please have mercy! I didn’t give nothing away! “ The man yelled, air leaving his lungs in short breaths. He didn’t have much time left. 

“Oh? So you still have them. “ Reno checked inside Hideki’s backpack, finding some type of old books and folders. “Who’s your contact?” 

Neila was speechless with the scene in front of her. Their target was crying and shouting due to an unbearable pain, his blood still blooming from his open cuts and lost limbs. And Reno was interrogating him not caring about his poor and bloody status. 

She had also done unnamed acts in her missions during the war time, but her work never consisted in torturing like this. 

“I don’t have a contact!” 

Reno chuckled before positioning his electric rod upon the man’s throat, as a silent threat. “ I’ll ask again idiot. Who’s your contact?” 

“Please!” an electric wave went across the injured body, more screams of pain could be heard, but soon were vanished amongst the rocky walls of the tallest mountains.

“Did ya change your mind? Or should I keep playing with you? Long time I don’t electrocute someone, I’ll be sure of making the most of it.” The Turk was smiling pleased with the sight of the man shouting. 

“Fujito! It’s Fujito!” Hideki answered. Fear could be read on his face. 

“Where?”  Reno pressed more the bar against his skin. 

“In the nearness of Wutai! Please I don’t know more, let me go!” 

A sigh escaped Reno’s mouth while he was dialing Tseng, who picked up instantly. He told Tseng all the information obtained, and after a brief minutes and a nod, Reno pocketed back his phone. 

Tseng must have given him directions.

“ Not that you would be able to reach that far… “ With a last look at Hideki, Reno stepped off of him, and walked back down the slope. “Come on sweetheart, we still have work to finish with. “ A gesture with his left hand told her it was the time to continue. 

Neila ran behind him, words caught in her throat, unable to bring them up. Some things couldn’t be approved, but work was work, and they had to do it. 

The flirtatious and cocky facade had been back on Reno’s face during the long rambling to Nibelheim. Several encounters with monsters slowed their descent.  Even though the mission had started rather earlier in the morning, when the sun hadn’t risen down yet, it was almost nightfall when they reached the village.

“ I guess we’ll have to leave things for today, don’t ya think?” 

“ Probably.” The headache had returned with every step they took. Not that it wouldn’t let her fight or keep with the mission, but it was getting tiresome now.

“I’ll notify Tseng, go ahead babe.” Reno stood outside the inn while Neila entered to ask for the room keys. The owner would be kinder to her in her second class SOLDIER uniform than to Reno with his characteristic and recognisable black suit.  

“ It was about time a SOLDIER was sent here to clean up the surroundings crawling with beasts.” The owner greeted her with a smile. 

“ Yeah, well… “ Shyness taking the best of her. She was awful at talking with strangers. 

“ Shinra booked two chambers, I guess those are yours. “ Veld must have taken care of it. The girl nodded, uncomfortable. “ Here you are. If you’re gonna clean the place, you’re gonna need a place to rest.” the keys were put on the wooden counter. 

“Thank you.” Taking the keys, she was ready to head up to the chambers, but Reno shuffled himself inside the inn, greeting the owner, whose face changed to a grimace of disgust.   

The Turks weren’t well welcomed here either. 

“ I’m exhausted sweetheart, we should go to bed. “ his arm over her shoulders, guiding her upstairs. 

“ Your key.” Neila offered the object to Reno. “ And please, hands off of me.” 

“ You’re hurting me.” A false expression of pain crossed Reno face, while he grab the key, but still refused to let her go. “ Acting all tough as if you don’t want it.” mockery present in his tone. 

“ That’s because…” 

“Don’t you dare lying to me. I’m not blind, nor I’m a fool. We’ve been toying with each other for a while.” He cut her off after a chuckle. Reno was starting to get tired of this shit. Fooling around was okay for a bit, but not for that long.  

“ And? You’ve got a problem with it?” swallowing the shyness, she was able to answer him. She wasn’t used to flirting , let alone a straightforward confrontation like this. For Bahamut, she had never had anything with anyone. When she was still a teenager Tseng had brought  her along to Midgar as a SOLDIER candidate. All of that romantic stuff was new for her. 

“ Don’t ya think it’s enough?” Reno had dragged her in front of him,holding her still with his hands on her shoulders, and leaned forward, blue eyes focused on hers. 

“ I doubt the corridor is the best place to discuss anything Reno.” tearing apart her gaze to the side.

“ You’re a tease.”  Reno might have been a sadistic, and might have done inexcusable things during his career, but forcing a woman was out of the question. There were some boundaries that couldn’t be crossed. 

“ It’s just that… I’ve never…” She whispered, ashamed. 

“ Ya know that I know, don’t ya?”  He had thought she wouldn’t have been that idiot to believe  that he hadn’t caught that she was inexperienced. He was a Turk for Bahamut's shake, he had been trained to pick up into people’s traits. Besides, her clumsy acts and nervous reactions at his flirting, demonstrated her innocence, anyone with two eyes would have caught it in a jiffy.    

The surprise in her features said otherwise. He let out an exasperated sigh, and released her shoulders, letting her free of his grip.It wasn’t that he was going to give up, but until she had made up her mind, he wouldn’t make a move “ It’s late and we still have a long day tomorrow. A comfy bed is waiting for us so… see ya tomorrow’s morning sweetheart. “ Giving her one of his signature smiles and shuffled to his assigned chamber.

Neila bit her lip, thoughts racing across her mind, but walked behind him and tugged his clothed arm, turning him to face her. 

His mouth slightly opened of surprise at the sudden movement she had done. This time Neila was the one leaning forward to him, her eyes sparkling with resolution.

Well, it looked like she had already made her mind up. In the blink of an eye, Reno shortened the distance till their lips meet into a sweet and naive kiss briefly.

 Once they broke apart, the smug smirk made its way back to Reno’s lips. “ See? It wasn’t that difficult.” 

“ You can’t have you mouth shut, can you?” blush drawing onto her cheeks, but her eyes were glittering more than normal. 

Reno let out a laugh, and bit his tongue to avoid saying a snarky remark before leaning down to meet her lips back again, this time into a more passionate and long kiss. After all, they’ve been playing around for weeks, it was about time.    

#ff7 #reno x reader #reno #reno sinclair x reader #final fantasy 7 #ffvii

[tellywoodtrash]

What is HAPPENING on Sanjeevani, girl?! I saw some clips on my Insta and it had a wild!Gaurav Chopra?! A nervous wreck masquerading as Dr Ishani?? And she's MARRIED to GChops?! Ded!Dr Shashank?? Mysterious son and Dr Anjali in Germany??? What.

Hiiiiiiiiii friend! 😘😘😘

Loooooooong time! How have you beeeeeeeen?! 🤗🤗🤗

Lmao I can’t even beginnnnnnn to describe the clusterfuck that has been Sanjivani since like…. October, but lemme try and break it down in bullet points (if you know all of this already, just skip down to the “three years later” bit!):

Sid who was flirting it up and sexy dancing at a wedding with Ishani till 8 pm, suddenly at 8:01 pm remembers that he has a dead fiancee in his past (plus najaayaz issues) and suddenly starts calling himself a panauti, properly balls-to-the-wall believing in the phenomenon (y’know, as educated, scientifically-minded surgical residents/general medical wunderkinds tend to do! blaming things like their mother’s premarital pregnancy and an older family members’ developmental disorder on themselves!) and being passive-aggressive in trying to ward off Ishani to “protect her” from him.

Passive-aggressive has to be notched up to AGGRESSIVE-AGGRESSIVE coz Ishani’s a dheent who won’t take no for an answer; so he GOES AND MARRIES ISHANI’S BEST FRIEND ASHA, who has gotten knocked up by Aman (who tata-bye-byed outta the whole sitch. Props to him for being the smartest person in this show. He’s probably living an unfulfilled life somewhere, but seemed to come from wealth, so how sad can you really be when you have so much money????)

This whole SidAsha marriage was engineered behind the scenes by Vardhan - who found out that Asha was pregnant and threatened to set her Khap Panchayat from Haryana on her or some shit. He coerced Asha to take advantage of Sid’s “achchaai” by playing on his najaayaz kid feels and take responsibility for her.

Lots of angst and drama as Ishani and Sid struggle with their feels about each other while he’s married to a pregnant Asha, whom he’s pledged his support and name to.

Asha’s pregnancy hormones seem to make her batshit crazy and unable to make any reasonable decisions, and she keeps messing with Sid’s career; drugging him and making him fuck up important surgeries and what not.

All this, again, coz Vardhan. Vardhan wants revenge from Sid. Why? Because dun dun dunnnnnnnnnnn, Sid is Shashank’s son! Vardhan wants to ruin Shashank’s life and thinks the best way to do it is by torturing his kids, and thus is fucking with Sid’s career, and is fucking with Anjali (like, literally. 👉🏽👌🏽👉🏽👌🏽👉🏽👌🏽 Coz sis has daddy issues and reallllllll bad judgement when it comes to men.)

But why does Vardhan want revenge from Shashank???? Damned if we (including the writers) know. Something to do with Vardhan’s Dearly Departed Didi, whose photo he keeps staring at while gritting his teeth. I’m guessing Shashank’s stuck his pen in that inkwell too?

Oh btw, Shashank also confessed his feelings for Juhi, who seemed HORRIFIED at the prospect, but like 5 minutes later is cool with it and reciprocates with her own crushy-wushy feelings? Idk man, idk. It’s all very unclear what that whole plot point was exactly, beyond some vague conversations and ambiguous coy smiles.

Daddy Shashank is disappointed in his known/unknown kid(s) for their various missteps in personal/professional lives. Saare milke inhe paagal banaa rahein hai, yeh chutiya bachchein.

Lots of other miscellaneous fuckery is going on between Sid/Ishani which……. honestly, is exhausting and not worth getting into. Anyway, it’s finally found out that Asha is the culprit behind this dhai mahine ka dukh-dard-chutiyaapa.

Ishani takes a bullet for pregnant Asha, and goes into a coma. Guilt-ridden Asha tells Vardhan to fuck off, signs annulment papers, and finally gtfo, but not before giving Sid a clue about who’s really behind all this kaand.

Vardhan is like lmao, I didn’t need her anyway and goes about paying randomass people to frame Sid for medical malpractice. Ishani literally comes out of the coma and hightails it straight to the police station to save her man. (For the record: I wouldn’t even let a man interrupt an afternoon nap of mine.)

Oh btw, by this point Anjali was like bohut ho gaya and fucked off to go play a Naagin on Colors. Good for her. 🐍🐍🐍

Sid and Ishani start working on exposing Vardhan. Coz appropriate R&R after getting up from a goddamn coma, what’s that!?!??!? JUST SHAKE IT OFF!!!!!!!!! PFFFFFFFT, TAKE A CROCIN OR TWO!!!!

Lo and behold, Dr. Shashank is killed in an accident. (We haven’t really seen him for the last………………………………… like 20 episodes or so? So…. do we really care at this point? Not really. Mohnish didn’t even show up to shoot the dead body waale shots. For the longest time I was like PAKKA SHASHANK NAHI HOGA, FACE NAHI DIKHA RAHEIN, KOI AUR HAI YAAR!!!!!!!!!!! But nope, all the characters identify him by face……… So yeah, egg on MY face.)

Sid’s mummy drops the bomb at the cremation that Sid is Shashank’s son and should light the funeral pyre. A very cool fun appropriate time for Anjali AND SID to find that out!!!!!

Sid and Ishani channel their sads into exposing Vardhan. Hallelujah, finally a win for the unluckiest people in this show. FFS even the little child who got impaled on a rod and Nurse Philo’s daughter with terminal brain cancer have had better lives.

Sid proposes to Ishani. He says he’s been accepted into some program in America and wants her to come with to start a new life there. Ishani is like nope, YEH MERA INDIA SANJIVANI, I LOVE MY INDIA SANJIVANI.

Ishani’s Mama/Mami come for rishta talks and catch the two almost making out in an on-call room and are all hawwwwwwwwww cheeeeeeee sanskaaaaaaar, etc. They turn out to dislike Sid coz najaayaz. And are rudeass snobby assholes to him and his family. Sid is understandably quite mad.

INSTEAD OF TALKING THAT SHIT THROUGH WITH HER, HE DITCHES ISHANI AT THE FUCKING MANDAP VIA TEXT AND FLIES OFF TO AMERICA. VIA TEXT. VIA TEXTTTTTTTTTTTTTT. We are all reminded once again, that Tellywood Men Ain’t Shit.

Except for Drs. Rahil and Neil who have categorically maintained their Very Good Boy crowns 👑👑👑👑 throughout the run of this show. Gold stars to them for achieving the impossible. 🌟🌟🌟

Sanjivani is on fire. Like, metaphorically it was always on fire, but this time literally. Unhinged Ishani runs riiiiiiight into the burning building.

3 years later………..

Sanjivani has been rebuilt. By Gaurav Chopra whose name is Navratna Singh, lololololol. An appropriate name because he does seem to be quite thanda thanda cool cool. He reopens and invites all the old staff back to pitch in and restore the place back to its old glory.

Anjali is a guest lecturer in Germany and may or may not come back to Sanjivani soon, depending on her Naagin transformation schedule.

Rishabh now seems to be a semi-decent human being????? Still a bit of a self-obsessed idiot, but definitely seems to be not as much of an asshole.

Rahil is super-serious and also bitter that his best friend just fucked off to America and hasn’t bothered keeping in touch. No one knows where Ishani is.

Ishani is now some kinda nervous wreck who spends her time doing pottery, but not the sexy Ghost kind. Just very sad and jittery and constantly popping anxiety pills (which looked like green Cadbury Gems to me???????) She can’t seem to help a person who sustains a semi-serious injury near her, completely freezing up in the moment.

Mr. Thanda Thanda Cool Cool finds her at the pottery studio, seems quite familiar with her, and tries to gently persuade her to come back to her first love: medicine.

But ofc heterosexuality rears its ugly head and sis can only think of the trash boy that ditched her.

Mr. TTCC brings her to Sanjivani but she behaves exactly like a toddler on the first day of school. There’s having to be coaxed out of the vehicle, reluctant dragging of feet, weeping, the works.

Precap shows her yelling at TTCC and saying he’s the boss of Sanjivani, not her, and kis haq se pakda hai, chodo mera haath!!!!!!!!!! And he gently reminds her of the wedding vows he took, to never let go of her.

Looks like the poor dude may have invested and rebuilt all this just for her and……………… in the end he’s gonna have to let her go to Dr. FuckBoi, mirroring the end of DMG, which……………… *prolonged, defeated sigh*

AND THAT’S WHAT YOU MISSED ON GLEE SANJIVANI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#sanjivani #bullet point recaps #tt answers #theincorrigiblemagpie

[kevinbugle]

King of Tin: Chapter 1

Waking up on a pile of plastic, rusty metal, and other spare bits of rotting garbage can never be the ideal way of waking up but unfortunately for me that is how my day started. Speaking of which, who am I? It took me a few minutes. Nix is about as far as I got. Nix. It didn’t sound right like saying a word too many times that it sounded familiar but wrong even though it's still the same word. But it was all I had to go off of so Nix it is. Now onto the next conundrum I faced; where am I? As far as the eye could see where piles upon piles of trash, rotting, bloated, festering trash. How I got here or why I was here completely escaped me. I don’t really know anything to be honest. I got up which was a hard task to complete as everything felt completely numbed until I tried to move my pelvis in under to sit up and then a wave of pain crashed through me. Blood rushed through me.

My predicament changed for better or for worse would be determined when a large figure approached me. It was a person but that could be easily mistaken as a pile of trash that had grown legs and started to move on its own. His hat was nothing more than a lid from a trash can with bits of Styrofoam dangling around the perimeter making it look like the ugliest sombrero ever invented. He wore a giant rain cloak that was covered in a strange greasy, ichor. Underneath the cloak he wore another thick jacket that was equally as musty. Trinkets, baubles, and other random junk strung around his chest and belt. He lumbered my way and I was so perplexed by his appearance I took no thought as to whether I should be afraid or not. But he managed his way over to me. He towered over me as I laid in the filth.

“Hi. My name is Pavel,” the man, Pavel, cheerful said to me. His face to no surprise was caked in grime. He had a prickly black beard and from the looks of it seemed he was bald.

“Nix,” I replied

He hand shot into satchel on the side of his hip. He rummaged and pulled out a little notebook with a pencil tied to it. He opened it up and jotted something down. “N-I-X, I assume?” He asked.

“Yeah,”

He put the notebook away. “It’s my book of names. You're the first Nix I’ve come across,” He smiled at me and waited awkwardly for me to respond. 

“Thanks,” It made sense to say.

“So Nix, what brings you here?”

“I have no idea,”

He frowned and put his hands on his hips. “Really? No idea at all?”

“No idea,”

“Well, that’s a bummer. Can you move okay?”

“Let me see,” and I mustered the strength and attempted to stand up. It hurt but I managed.

“Good work,” Pavel smiled at me

“Thank you,”

“You want to hang out at my house?”

“Yeah, sure,” I didn’t really want to but I had nowhere else to be. But now that I thought about it, he’s house was probably just somewhere here in the junk.

He held onto his smile “Right this way then,”

Pavel turned and started walking and I followed. Maybe it was the weight of all his junk but Pavel was slow as shit. He waddled more than walked but lucky for me I was also sort of waddling as my legs didn’t feel quite right so for the moment I was content with the pace. It didn’t help that the floor was made up of uneven junk so it was like stepping on rocks, jagged, rusty, smelly rocks. We walked for what seemed like half an hour before we were stopped. There was a man in front of us. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. He had a metal skull mask on and his eyes were glowing red. He wore thick, red cargo pants and had various cains hanging between his pockets. The most concerning aspect of him was the big wrench he had in his right hand. Pavel and I stopped. I stood behind Pavel. Pavel didn’t seem all that bothered by the man but I couldn’t see his face.

“Greetings traveler,” Pavel said to the skull man

The man groaned and then coughed or maybe it was a laugh that came out wrong. Some kind of liquid squirted out between the teeth of his skull mask. “Hand it over,” the man finally croaked out. He extended out his hand. “Your Paste,”

“I have no Paste,” replied Pavel, more concerned and serious than he had been with me. I could rightly assume that Pavel wasn’t happy to see this guy. Maybe an old rival.

I was very concerned about what this paste stuff was.

“Haha, I know you got some *ugh* Paste there buddy so *snort* hand it over,” the man shot back.

Pavel pulled back his cloak and grabbed something.

“Heehee,” the man snickered loudly and I could see his fingers flex around the handle of the wrench. Oh dear. The man lunged forward but with one quick movement, a blur of silver, Pavel demolished him across the face with a club. The man lurched backwards clutching his skull face.

He howled “Ow. Ow. Ow. Ooooooooooo,”

Pavel was holding a metal rod, nothing really special about it, just wrapped with tape at the handle but it was oddly shiny compared to how dirty everything else he carried was. “You done?” Pavel firmly said.

“RAH,” The man hissed back at Pavel. In another swift motion, Pavel extended out his arm and brandished what I assumed was a gun, I don’t know what else you would point at a man with deadly intent. Pavel pulled the trigger and a large spike shot out from the machine and glided straight through the man’s head. The spike impaled itself and the man’s entire brain onto a pile of trash behind him. The skull faced man obviously went slack and collapsed. I gasped.

“Oh bother,” Pavel plainly said.

“You killed that guy,”

“Yeah,”

“Wh-,”

“He’ll be fine,”

“Fine? You blew his brain out, the whole brain!” I exclaimed.

Pavel turned to look at me “He’ll still be revived, might take a couple of days but he’ll be good as new soon enough,”

“Revived? What are you talking about?”

Pavel looked really confused. “You don’t know?”

“No I don’t. I don’t know anything right now. I don’t know who you are, or who is-was that guy, I don’t know where I am or why I’m even here for that matter. So yeah, I don’t know,”

“Oh… my bad. Um, okay let me explain this,” Pavel meekly said. I may have offended him with my little rant but I couldn’t help myself. “People here don’t die. I don’t know if you noticed that green flash in the sky but it’s a satellite. Everytime it passes by everyone that’s dead gets revived at their bed,”

I stared at Pavel. Shit, I had no reason not to believe him. What am I talking about, of course I shouldn’t believe him.

“Here, we can wait here and watch,”

So we did. Sure enough, faintly up in the sky, a bright flash. Then the body of the man turned completely green, even the brain that was impaled on the spike. He glowed and glowed until it finally melted. And then nothing. 

“See,” Pavel looked at me.

I didn’t really know what to say. “So he’s going to be fine?”

“Well,” Pavel itched the back of his head. “It’s not good to die too often. It can cause scarring and if you do it too often in a short amount of time you can go a little mad. I think that's what happened to this fellow. Oh, that’s why he wanted Paste. Paste can help those that have died a lot feel new again. It heals the scars and settles the mind,”

I just stood there and blankly stared at him. Pavel stared back. He got a slight nervous look on his face and slowly started to turn. He began walking and I followed him. Immortality: with some slight downsides. It was a lot to take in. Everything was a lot right now.

We kept walking. We walked for what seemed like hours and the junkyard never seemed to end. But it did. Sort of. The floor stopped being made out of trash and instead turned into what one would assume to be dirt. It was hard and completely white. Other than that, barren. We pressed forward leaving behind this seeming enormous pile of trash that apparently was just laying there in the middle of this desert. Ahead, I saw a cabin. Pavel’s cabin. If one looked at Pavel and then this shack, it would be easy to tell it belonged to him. Trash littered the perimeter. The outside wooden walls had random trinkets and curios hanging off of it. He was a hoarder and damn good at it. Pavel led me inside. I immediately felt claustrophobic as the room we entered was cramped from all the trash. Pavel moved through it with ease like a nimble deer. He disappeared behind some boxes. I looked for a place to sit. I found a beyond dusty little sofa and plopped myself down. It felt nice to sit. I tried to take in all of Pavel’s “collection” but the thought just made me dizzy. So I stared up at the ceiling and waited for Pavel to return. Understandably, it took him about five minutes to remove his whole loadout. He returned to me with a once white flannel turned more ashy gray and a blue beanie. He still wore the same dirty cargo pants. Pavel looked so small now. He looked old too.

Pavel smiled at me, friendly like always. “What do you think? I know its a bit messy, haha, I wasn’t expecting anyone over,”

“It’s nice Pavel,” I kindly said to him.

“Ah, lookie here,” He reached down like a bird finding a worm and pulled out a brown paper bag from underneath the heap of trash. He handed it to me. I opened it. It was filled with rubber ducks.

“It’s the start of a little collection I got going on. I’m a collector as you can see. Names, cans, scrap metal, ohhh, boots. I got big collections, ones that I’m really trying to grow but then I have smaller ones that I keep to the side like those duckies there,”

“You collect names?” I cock my head to the side.

“Why yes of course,” He pulls out his notebook from before. He handed it to me and began to flip through the dusty pages. He must have had fifty pages filled top to bottom with names. I gave it back to him with a weak smile.

“Pavel?” I asked.

“Yes?”

“Where are we?”

“This is my house,”

“No I mean, this planet,”

“Oh, this is Tin,”

I paused for a moment. “And where in Tin are we?”

“Oh I don’t really know. We don’t really have names for things, just towns but other than that everything is just Tin,” He paused and he started to frown. “Are you not from here?”

“No,” I answered. I didn’t know where I was from but I know it wasn’t from here. “How do I get out?”

“You can’t. The King doesn't let anyone,”

“The King? There is a king?”

“Yeah,” He plainly responded. “He runs the place, him and his white knights. He’s rules are very relaxed. I’ve never had a run in with him. His one rule is no one leaves,”

“Where is he?”

“You want to see the King? Why?” He looked absolutely baffled.

“I have to get out of here,”

Pavel paused and seemed lost in thought. “I don’t know for sure where he lives but I know someone in Smalltown could help you, the warden perhaps,”

“Can you take me to Smalltown?”

He smiled weakly. “I can show you the way there but I can’t leave this junkyard. It’s too valuable to me,”

“What do you mean?” I asked

“It may seem like junk to you but sometimes you find stuff too precious to let go. You're not the first person I’ve found in the junkyard. Spaceships that fly too close to Tin are shot down by the King. Sometimes the pilots survive and I’m able to get to them before the white knights do,”

I don’t know how to respond so I just nod my head. 

Pavel slaps his knee. “Ah but you can’t go traveling in that, here I’ll let you borrow some stuff,” And with that, he got all giddy again and disappeared into the trash. I slowly got up from the chair. I still had no idea of anything. I don’t know where I came from or how I ended up here on Tin. I don’t know what I did to deserve this. I wasn’t even entirely sure if my name is Nix. But finding the King just felt right to me like it was something I was doing before this happened to me. It was something and is this haze of confusion it was all I could go on. 

Pavel came back with his arms filled with a bundle of what looked like clothes. “Alright. I brought you some better clothes. I know it seems warm now but trust me, sometimes the weather will go on the fritz and next thing you know you're in a territorial downpour and you’ll be thankful for this jacket,” He handed me a black leather with a hoodie stitched into it. It was very thick because of this. He also handed me a gray flannel and some worn out jeans. I stripped in front of him. The clothes somehow fit me almost perfectly. I was wearing a plain white t-shirt and greyish white pants with no pockets. When I take my shirt off, Pavel raises his eyebrows. 

Pavel smiles weakly again. He hands me a device. It’s a cell phone. “Can’t go without one of these. Here, this one is wiped already so you should boot it up real quick,” and I did as he said. Once I finished the installation, Pavel reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Pavel’s phone had a ginormous case and thus looked like a black metal brick. “Here, I’ll give you my number in case you need any help on your little adventure,” I punch in his number. Next he gives me a simple sandy colored backpack. After I put the pack on, Pavel reaches behind his back and pulls out a gun still in the holster. I swallow hard.

“You’ll need this,”

I nod. I take the gun. My palms start to sweat. I hastily clip the gun onto my belt.

“Thank you Pavel, you saved my life,” I calmly told him.

“It’s what I do Nix,”

I don’t need to say anything. We both nod at each other and head outside. Pavel leads me a few miles away from his house and then stops. “It’ll take you about a day or two on foot but Smalltown is just straight that way. It’s hard to miss,”

“Thank you again Pavel,”

He gives me a big smile again. “Good luck Nix. Don’t be a stranger,”

[waywardwhump]

Attic Angel

Thariel’s chest pounded hard in near-panic as she walked, her arms crossed tight around her in a self-hug. She flinched at every sound, attention snapping this way and that. There was going to be a fight. This was a stupid decision on her part; the last time she’d jumped into a situation without all the facts she’d wound up locked in an attic for twenty years.

This was going to backfire. When it did, it would be her own fault.

But she couldn’t ignore what the note said. It’d been taped to the front door when she’d returned from her nightly rounds. At first she’d been afraid it’d been from Sam or Marnie, and the ever looming possibility that one of them would discover her leaving the house alone. They’d gone as far as to split up their shifts at work in order to make sure Thariel was never alone at any given time, yet still she snuck out despite the risk that an angel would find and kill her.

But the note wasn’t from them. It was unsigned, it had simple directions, and it warned her there was a life on the line if she didn’t come.

And it had to be a trap, and she shouldn’t follow it, but the danger of someone losing their life was too much for her to ignore. Someone could die, and it was her duty to protect.

Thariel cursed herself as she walked. Sam would be upset. Marnie would be angry, and heavens, Marnie would look too much like May, and she’d yell at her, and it would be awful, and then they’d have to help Thariel calm down again, and they shouldn’t have to do that. 

Assuming she came back at all. This was bad. Bad. Bad.

It washed over her like a wave of water, and she froze. Her breath caught in her throat, and she went very, very still. It was a wall of energy. Corrupted, unholy, invisible from the outside. 

She reached out with her own power, tenitive, feeling the curve of of it stretch on away from her. A dome. 

Another step, and another. She caught the scent of blood, heard the silence, too heavy and too absolute, and then she saw him.

“R-Ranizel?!”

His eyes turned toward her. It was the only part of him that could move; the angel was doubled over on himself, torso twisted away from his lower body in a way that looked agonizing. His wings were spread open, bleeding, with visible holes opened up through the meat just below the bone.

He trembled before her, helpless, impaled by the same energy that the dome was made out of. Not a sound escaped him. He could only stare, mouth parted, muscles straining for a breath that couldn’t come.

Thariel felt sick. She stumbled for him, falling to her knees at his side, her hands curling about one of those rods to pulse a wave of her own energy through it. It gave way far too easily, tearing at her touch like it was tissue paper. 

Unholy energy specifically formed in such a way to be impossible for an angel to fight, yet also made to yield to a fallen’s whim. This was too familiar, too sharp, and the intention of forcing Ranizel into falling was too clear for it not to hurt.

It would be a simple matter to get him out. Thariel prepared another pulse, this one to bring down all the rods at once. Get him out of the dome, get him into the light. The moon was just a reflection of the sun, but it would be more than enough to stop the fall, to reverse it before the angel hit the point where he couldn’t be saved.

“Wait.”

Softly spoken as the word is, it hits her hard enough to have her whirling, turning to face the speaker with a coil of energy building in her hand. 

She could fight a fallen. This fallen, however, wasn’t in a position to strike her. He sat on the ground, arms folded neatly in his lap. His wings lay relaxed and half unfolded at his sides. 

He was dressed in all white, striking in that there wasn’t a speck of dirt or dust to be found on him. The thing that stood out the most were his eyes, red like blood taken from the heart. 

“Hey there. You can relax; I didn’t call you out here looking for a fight. I just want to talk.”

Thariel clenched her teeth. “I-I don’t, I don’t want to t-talk.”

“Then don’t. That’s your call. You can just listen.”

The man didn’t move, didn’t budge from his spot on the ground. When he reached for her, it with with unseen hands, carefully controlled power shaped into the form of a claw. Thariel flinched as it brushed over her, sliding through her hair, past her shoulders, down her arms. Warmth pooled where it touched, a pleasant soothing heat that made her falter. 

She could feel the strength behind it, a mountain compared to an ant. She was nothing compared to him, and the only reason this didn’t hurt was that he was making a conscious effort to be gentle.

The spark in her hands fizzled out. Thariel recoiled, pushing back into Ranizel behind her. She felt him tense and jerk in pain, but she couldn’t think to do anything but shy away from this massive current at her front.

His energy followed without effort, coiling about her like a hug. It made her feel very, very small, something fragile, something he could break without warning.

She knew who he was. Fear reared up in her, her legs buckled, her fingers dug thoughtlessly into Ranizel’s wing. “Lucifel.”

“Lucifer, please. I’ve cut my ties. Easy, there. Easy.” It reached past her skin, brushing through her chest, invasive, horribly intimate. He found the worst of her fear and softened its edges, drawing her away from her panic. She could feel her heartbeat slow against the pressure of his claw.

She couldn’t move.

In her silence he continued, “I don’t think I need to point out that this angel has tried to kill you more than once. He’s refused to hear you out, and as such he’s done nothing but make himself a threat. I also don’t need to tell you that the rules he follows that condemn you are the same ones you insist on holding yourself to.

“What we need to talk about is those rules themselves. Poor Ranizel here,” he nodded toward him, “he’s not going to understand where I’m coming from. You, though, I think you’ll get it. I think maybe we could be friends. Look at your wings...”

Warmth brushed down the place where her wings once were, dead and burnt tissue able to feel his touch were nothing else had registered in years.

“A human did that. A human tortured you. A human made you fall. Now here you are, trying so very hard to be a good angel, and your reward for this is attempted murder by your kin. You hold fast to your rules. You didn’t have to. The moment you fell there was no going back. You could have killed the one holding you prisoner, you could have stolen her key. You could have gotten out so much sooner, but you didn’t.”

“We aren’t allowed, to, to h-hurt humans.”

“That’s exactly my point. You followed heaven’s command to the letter, yet here you are, judged for a choice you didn’t even make. You were cut off from heaven by force, yet you’re treated like a criminal. Doesn’t that strike you as unfair?”

“N-not allowed.”

“Is your situation any different now than it would have been had you broken that rule?”

Thariel swallowed. The answer was no. She couldn’t bring herself to say it.

“It’s not my intention to force you into any role,” Lucifer said. “All I want is for you to think about it. Step away from your rules, consider what they mean. Ask yourself if mother really deserved to live out the rest of her days torturing you.”

“Angels...angels don’t hurt humans. It’s against our purpose.”

“You’re just repeating the things you’ve been told. Heaven has turned its back on you. They no longer hold you in their power. Won’t you consider, even for a moment, that May deserved worse than what she got? Some humans are awful. Not all of them, of course. I wouldn’t dream of suggesting that Sam should be punished, but there are those who would deserve it if one of us ended them before their time. Just think about it. Consider it. Think for yourself for a moment.”

The hand returned to her heart, curling against it, and she could see and feel and hear mother’s self-entitled rage as clear as if she’d just screamed in her ear. Anger flared, embers of it spreading, her fingers curling into fists.

Ranizel was still behind her. Ranizel with her nails in his wing.

“That’s what free will is. Consider that angel there. He has tried to murder you. If he lives, he will likely try again. If he dies, he will no longer be a threat. If we keep him here, and let him fall, then he will have a taste of what you’ve been through.”

Lucifer stood. His wings tucked politely into his back, his hands clasped in front of him. He took a step forward, and another, and another, until he was within arms reach, until Thairel was pushing herself back away from him as hard as she could. 

“Be not afraid,” he said, rolling the words out wryly. “There is no right or wrong answer. You’re free to do as you wish, I’ll not judge you. But I do hope you’ll consider me someone you can call on if need be.”

“Nnn...nnnn.” Fear made putting her words together difficult. If she was brave, she could have argued the matter to his face.

There was sense to his words. He had a point.

But he was still the reason so many angels fell, and it is in his name that innocent people like Sam got hurt. 

As soon as the thought entered her head, he spoke in response. “It is their choice. The pain they cause is through their own will. I would not make you hurt your friends.”

That was the problem. Justify an attack on a human by saying they deserved it, then watch as the system fails because the angels who are supposed to act with fairness decided it was okay to pick and chose which human they helped. That’s why he was dangerous. That’s why the punishment of falling existed, so people would know who not to trust.

“Are you so sure that stopping monsters like May wouldn’t protect more humans in the long run? We can be helpful like the angels are. We’d just help in a different way.”

Thariel shoved against him with every bit of power she had. He didn’t flinch. His hair barely ruffled. Terror at more than just the fallen cut through the warmth in her chest, and she turned to free Ranizel from his bindings.

The rods tore with ease, just as they were supposed to, and the angel’s desperate gasp for air cut off with a cry of pain. Thairiel shoved at him, digging her heels in the ground to force him to his feet, “fly, just get out of here, go!”

Lucifer made no move to stop him. Ranizel stumbled back, hardly able to keep on his feet, open wounds now bleeding freely. She kept pushing him back, trying to get distance between them and their enemy, and then Ranizel’s arms locked around her.

Her panic turned to him, now, she tried to push him away, but he had the advantage of surprise and before she could put any strength into it Ranizel spread his wings wide and threw himself into the air.

Up, through the barrier, into the night. Lucifer’s energy fell away from her, leaving her cold and shivering in its absence. Wind cut off all other sound save for the rhythmic beating of an angels wounded wings. Blood flicked off into nothingness, torn feathers gave way, and for the first time in far, far too long Thariel got to see the city from above.

When he landed, it was several miles away, on the roof of a building, the tallest one in the area. He hit hard enough to knock the wind out of him both. 

Ranizel’s wings stayed open, as wide as they could go so that they were bathed in moonlight. Thariel didn’t know if he did it because he knew it would help, or if it was an instinctive decision. His arms were clamped tight around her, his chest heaving, his face buried in her shoulder. She could feel how close he’d come to falling.

She let him shudder and sob into her shoulder, her arms loosely coming around to rest against his sides, mindful to keep as much light on him as possible. 

It was one of the worst things an angel could go through, and it was a miracle that he’d gotten out in time. “Pray,” she told him. “Call for help. They’ll bring you home. L-let me go, first. Then you can call them.”

“Don’t- don’t leave me, don’t leave me alone, he’ll, come back, he’ll, please-”

Scattered words, desperate for breath and for protection.

He didn’t pray, instead he held on like she was his only lifeline. He held her as she had once held Sam. And maybe he hadn’t fallen, but falling wasn’t the only pain an angel could suffer that couldn’t be undone.

#Whump #Attic Angel #Caretaker #Tw: Torture #tw: impalement #Tw: injury #Tw: blood #wayward's favorites

[lettersofwrittencollective]

The Pull (24/?)

Summary: The Ragnulf’s are one of the oldest lines of werewolves known. A gift from ancient times was given to the line. Though not all of the line will experience it. There are some who will experience a Pull. This Pull leads them to their true mate, a soulmate. The problem is, just because the wolf finds their true mate does not mean that they are the same for that person.

Author: @lettersofwrittencollective

Pairing: Stiles x Hale!Cousin OC (Reader)

Word count: 2242

Warnings: 

A/N: So let me know what you think :) I wanted something cute and I absolutely adore Melissa McCall. Hopefully, I did her justice! 

<<Prev || Masterlist || Next>>

You watch as Melissa gives Stiles a shot that knocks him out. When she tucks him in, you hear him thank her but it’s what he calls her that surprises you. It apparently surprises her as well because she pauses before she finishes putting the blanket on him.

“You guys are really important to him, aren’t you?”  you ask her softly, thinking of the way that Stiles trusts Scott and now this.

She looks at him, that adoring look that mothers have for all their kids gleaming in her eyes before she turns to you and nods her head. “He means just as much to us.”

She crosses the room and before you realize it, she’s put her hands on your shoulders and is directing you towards the chair in the room. You obligingly sit down, she cups your face and then looks you in the eye before her eyes are roving the rest of your face.

Confused, you sit there and basically allow her to complete her inspection of you. As she’s inspecting you she begins to ask questions, “So, you’re friends with Isaac?”

You nod your head and as she pulls back, she raises an eyebrow at you. “And you’re friends with Scott and Stiles?”

“I mean more Stiles than Scott I would say but I guess so,” you say with a shrug. Melissa tilts her head as she looks at you. The room is silent for a moment and you’re not sure what she’s thinking or what you’re supposed to say.

She shrugs her shoulders before grabbing the bottle she had used with Stiles the midazolam. At your questioning look, she says “You are almost as sleep deprived as Stiles and you, also, need your rest.”

You shake your head, “That Ummm, that won’t work on me.”

“Of course not. I forgot for a moment there.” She says with a sigh and sets both the needle and the vial down. She sighs and motions for you to follow her. It takes you a moment after she’s left, not sure that you like the idea of leaving Stiles on his own, but you follow the curly haired woman out and she shows you to another patient room.

Stepping into the room, you sit on the edge of the bed she motions to. She starts to ask you some basic questions and puts together a chart for you. You’re not sure you quite understand why seeing as you’re not being admitted but you go with it.

Once she’s asked you the questions that she needs to you ask if you can go back and check on Stiles. She gives you an odd look and you can feel your body warming. You’re about to try and make something up when she asks, “What is he to you?”

“My friend.”

She gave you a look like she was trying to decide if you were lying to her or not. Refusing to look away, you waited for her to push back. After a moment, she seems to make up her mind that you aren’t lying to her or that she’s going to accept your words as they are.

She nods her head and you thank her for her time before making your way back to room 315. Once you get there, you sit in one of the chairs against the wall and try to get as comfortable as possible. Pulling a notebook from your backpack, you open the page back up to the one of the weird vision or whatever it was you’d had when the electricity had struck you the night Barrow had kidnapped Kira.

Though you weren’t exactly sure what they all had in common you and Stiles had been able to find some myths that may have something to do with what you had seen. There was the story of Anansi, a West African trickster. One of his stories that fit because he’d apparently had to carry the coffin of a court jester after he’d killed him.

You know that Hermes’ Rod of Asclepius had been used to save you from the eagle which you’re not sure what that means. That was one of the things that also confused you, why would an eagle

Pulling out your phone, you looked up eagles and what they mean in different cultures. The problem is that there are so many of them. You weren’t sure what kind of eagle had been in the vision but the most popular it seemed was the Golden Eagle. Closer to home, there was the Eagle that sat on Yggdrasil. The First Nations people had their own stories about Eagles and each of those were as diverse as the groups of people they came from.

You’d written each of these down and some small descriptions for each over the course of an hour or so but none of them seemed to actually work or make sense to you. Crossing them out, you found yourself becoming increasingly more and more frustrated with what you had and what had been crossed out.

It didn’t take you long to figure out that you were on the wrong track with what you had found. Tearing out the paper and wadding it up, you growled as you thew it towards the trash bin. Of course, because that’s just the kind of luck you'd had recently, Melissa had opened the door without you noticed and you’d hit her in the head.

She stopped for a moment,  surprise flickering across her features and was closer to the wad of paper, she bent to pick it up. “Paper giving you a hard time?”

Covering your face with your hands, you apologized to her before getting up and taking the paper from her. A sigh escapes your lips and you shake your head, “Not the paper. More just this- dream? That I had and there was a lot going on. Trying to figure out if any of it means anything.”

“Well, what was the dream about?”

You pause for a moment and look at her, she seems to recognize your hesitance because she holds her hand out in the typical “give me that” parental gesture you’ve seen so many times. Handing the paper over to her, you watch as she uncrumpled it and looks at the information you’ve written about what eagles can mean to different cultures.

“So umm, yeah… It was kind of weird but then aren’t all dreams? There was a spider with a box that Stiles and I have figured out seems to make the most sense with one of the stories associated with Anansi, a trickster. Then there was an eagle trying to kill me, it was this huge eagle that was swooping down like I was going to be this little field mouse for its dinner but it was then impaled by Hermes’ Rod of Asclepius.”

Melissa gave you a look that you could only describe as shocked. You chuckle and nod your head. “Pretty sure that would be my face if someone elsewhere to tell me the same thing. It was just so, weird. And then that tree that Stiles told you about?” You waited for her to nod her head, “The tree was there and so was,” you faltered mid-sentence. Unsure if you should tell Melissa it was Stiles.

“Stiles?” You looked at her and could feel yourself begin to panic.

“How did you-” you trailed off as you tilted your head in her, hands motioning towards her in your confusion.

Lifting her hand, Melissa counted off, “Well you haven’t left his side since he basically got here. Whenever Scott talks about Stiles nowadays your name comes up as well, he seems to be pretty attached to you, and you looked at him just now. So, what happened with Stiles?”

“He was at the tree, the Nemeton, surrounded by fireflies and a- umm a Valkyrie was reaching out towards him.”

“A Valkyrie?”

You have to think about it for a second, “Umm so they’re from the Norse pantheon. Basically, women who were the ones that choose which of the dead on a battlefield have earned a place amongst the warriors of Valhalla.”

Melissa raises an eyebrow at you like it’s not the craziest thing she’s heard but she really wishes it was. Waiting for her to respond, you flatten out the paper you’d been working on and put it back in the notebook, figuring you may get someth8ng more out of it later when you’re not as frustrated.

“You don’t think it was just any kind of dream do you?” She asked you softly, horror underlying her voice.

Sinking back down into the chair, rubbing your face, which is becoming a terrible habit, you run your nails across your scalp before responding, “It wasn't a dream. It happened the night that we saved Kira from Barrow.” At Melissa’s look of confusion, you continued, “There was some kind of electrical thing and I must have gotten hit with some electricity cause the next thing I knew  This is what I was seeing.”

“You think it was some kind of vision?” she asks and when you nod your head, she looks over to Stiles. “Is he in trouble?”

“I’m not sure. There was a reference to that trickster tale, but the Rod is a healers thing and I haven’t been able to figure out the eagle, the fireflies or the Valkyrie.”

“I thought you said the Valkyrie was Norse?”

“Yeah, but they’re supposed to be picking warriors for Valhalla. Why would there be one going after Stiles if he’s not dead?”

“So they only take the dead?”

“Ye-” you trailed off as you remembered the stories of Brünhild, the Valkyrie that had gone against Odin because she favored a younger king and Svafa, who had fallen in love with a mortal man. They were stories that your mother had told you when you were little. Stories that you had thought romantic as a child though now you weren’t so sure if they were romantic, heart-breaking or just plain dumb. “No, they can influence a battle to swing one way or the other. They’re fallible and can be swayed by their emotions…Ugh, why can’t these things ever be clear?”

Melissa chuckled and then came over to sit on the arm of the chair you were in. Putting an arm around your shoulders, she pulled you into a hug. “Oh, sweetheart, very few things in life are ever clear. Take it from someone who has a couple years of experience in it.”

“Tell you what,” she continued, “I’ve been looking into werewolves and have come across quite a bit of Greek myths outside of the regular Zeus, Hades, and gang. I’ll go back through and see if I can find anything about an Eagle and then help you look into the others as well.”

You thank her for the offer and she gets up to go check on Stiles. You watch as she takes his vitals and notes the information in his chart. He’s still asleep through all of this and you can’t help but feel relieved that he’s getting some rest.

“When was the last time you had a good night's rest?”

You’re caught off guard by the question. You’d been so distracted by Stiles you hadn’t noticed that Melissa had completed her check and since you were the only other person in the room, well, it had to be you.

Contemplating the question, it takes you a moment to realize, “It’s been literal months since the last time. It’s always one thing or another that wakes me up.”

She cups your face in the same way that your aunt used to before the insanity got the best of her, and you can feel your heart clench painfully and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to not break down in tears at that moment.

You can see the worry in her eyes and you shake your head. “I promise, I am getting more sleep than he is. Just the other day I fell asleep at his house and he let me sleep for like 4 hours… I think it was 4.  That was probably the best nap I’d had in a while too. Besides, it’s not like I need a whole lot of sleep anyways.”

She sighs and it sounds like in that sigh is a heavy weight that you can practically feel reverberating through the room. “Alright, well I’m off in a couple hours. You’ll come with me and we’ll get you a change of clothes and some food then you can come stand vigil.”

“But-”

“No arguments. He’s here, he will be safe for an hour or two while you get some actual food in your system and some clean clothes,” she cuts you off with a pointed look at what you have on.

Looking down you realize that you’re still in the black leggings from last night with Stiles’ flannel thrown over your torso. You should feel embarrassed or sheepish. Your skin should be heating up but, interestingly, you find that you’re oddly kind of proud of the outfit you have on. Melissa’s not wrong though, you do need to get into clean clothes and you need some actual food. So, you nod your head and she leaves.

You must have dozed off because the next thing you know, you’re being woken by a knock at the door.

-

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-

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Posted 15 May 2019

#Reader insert #stiles #Stiles x reader #Stiles imagine #stiles imagines #Stiles Stilinkski #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinksi imagine #Teen Wolf #Teen wolf x reader #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf rewrite #The Pull #my writing #series

[kyberphilosopher]

Adamus: Chapter Two

“I knew that I was sick or evil, or both.”

Description: Adamus’s mental state has taken a blow. Circe comes to confront him, but he’s not the only one who’s visiting the Jedi.

Chapter Two

          “Adamus,” I hear Aheka say from behind my door. “I brought you breakfast again. Could you try to eat?” She waits a while. She’s waiting to hear my footsteps, or a low ‘come in’, or even a click of a button. She receives nothing. I have no energy to move, no desire to speak, no pull to reach out and respond.

          “Okay,” she says softly. “I’ll leave you alone again. Breakfast is by your door.” I hear the muffled sound of Aheka changing her positions, and a tray hitting the metal floor. There is silence for a few seconds, but Aheka breaks it. “I miss her.”

          Since I woke up in the infirmary, I’ve thrown up several times. Eventually I just got so overwhelmed with everything I tore out of there, running through the ship in light clothing. I made it to my room before vomiting again and sealing myself inside. I haven’t left for a while. I haven’t eaten. I slept only once for a long time, but I had a nightmare and now I’m scared to close my eyes again. I have only sat in the middle of my bed, in front of the huge window that let’s me see everything outside. At the moment, it’s only the long, blue and silver swirling tunnel of hyperspace- infinite and unending.

          I’ve curled myself up in my long, dark brown robe like a child. It’s wrapped around my form as I sit, giving me warmth I don’t even really register or care for. I don’t care about anything. I don’t know if my mind is working, or if all the staring at the swirling blue vortex in front of me has turned my brain to mush. If it has, I don’t think I’d object much.

          I still haven’t told Aheka about Keres. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. The mere thought of her sends my stomach into a fit of anguish, my throat threatening to roar up everything inside of me, blood and all. It is a completely immobilizing sadness. Sometimes I think I’m going to do something- make myself shower or make myself eat, but I only collapse back into my current position.

          Aheka comes to visit me what I think is every morning. I have no need or desire to keep track of time anymore. She always knocks on my door, tries to coax me in some way and leaves me something. The only time I ever opened was to grab some fresh clothes, which I didn’t even put on. I undressed as if I was going to change, only to wrap myself in thick comforters and fall asleep. I don’t have the heart to actually say the words about Keres’s fate. Not yet.

          I replay her in my mind with every passing second. I remember all the details of her face because it was hard for me to not commit them to my memory. She had an olive complexion- somewhere between pale but tanned from time outside. The corner of her lips were slightly upturned, even when pulled into a frown. Her hazel eyes were flecked with green and gold like a forest scene, framed by soft lashes lined with dark makeup. Dark circles always hung under her eyes, even once she had begun to get actual sleep. Her button nose was splashed with freckles that faded against her cheeks. She had two just below her lips, towards the right. Those lips were always chapped, but they got better after she started actually taking care of herself here.  Her hair was brown like chocolate, stringy and always in a messy braid that fell across her shoulder. I liked it when she would put her hair back into a small, messy roll at the nape of her neck, with strands of hair falling at the sides of her face. I liked that it let me see more of her face like that. She was a pretty girl. I should’ve told her that.

          It’s hard to imagine her dead now. Did she melt in the fires of Mustafar? Is her body still on the ship somewhere? Limp on the floor to decay for eternity? Or was my brief vision true, and is she dangling over the lava, impaled on a metal rod? Is her face covered in blood because she smacked her head against something?

          I just can’t bring myself to tell anyone what happened. Surely some of the crew members must have some semblance of what went down, but no one has come forward or mentioned it. Until I officially state that, yes, Keres is dead, people are going to treat her as if she were still alive and lost somewhere. I know for a while we stayed outside of Mustafar’s orbit, sending small groups to see if Keres had left a trail of some kind. Why can’t they understand that the only trail she’s left behind is the one of metal and carnage and a skeleton of an Imperial Star Destroyer? I can’t say it. I can’t tell them. I can barely admit it to myself.

          I think Circe must know. He spent a decent amount of time with Keres. I don’t know what they were really talking about, but I do know that they were drawn together for whatever reason. It wasn’t really a romantic thing, but more of a family thing, maybe? They seem to have had a similar way of thinking. The way of thinking that comes from performing illegal and suspicious activities.

          My stomach takes me away from my thoughts with a stabbing pain. When was the last time I had eaten? I can’t remember. My stomach has certainly made it clear that it needs some sort of substance, but my brain has been kind enough to block that out and ignore it. I guess this time it’s telling me that if I don’t start eating soon, I’m going to regret it.

          I stir ever so slightly. My head cranes over my shoulder to look at the door behind me, imagining what food Aheka has left for me. Is it fruit? The kind of fruit that Keres loved? What will I do if I look down and see that? How will I handle being met with something that is so clearly a reminder of her?

          I actually push myself out of the bed. My arms feel weak and my body light. My stomach twists and turns in protest like it can’t handle the sudden movement. Once up, I stretch my fingers out slightly as if that will help me keep my balance. I tug the blanket closer around me before slowly walking to the door, my bare feet patting against the floor.

          The door slides open to reveal a light gray tray on the floor. On the tray is a wooden bowl of beige colored mush, and a cup of water with a straw. I can’t help the wave of relief that crashes over me to not find fruit. I shakily pick up the tray and hurry back into my room, like a scared animal that doesn’t want to be seen. I haven’t made it four steps when there’s a knock at my door again, and a voice.

          “Open up. I know you’re in there.”

          I stop my movement, then turn my head slightly towards the door. My ears must be playing tricks on me.           “Don’t open the door.”

          I whip my head back around, my tray shaking wildly in my hands. For a split second, I can just make out the outline of someone sitting up straight in my bed. I could’ve sworn that voice was… never mind.

          “Adamus,” the first voice calls, exasperated. I think it’s Circe. “Open the damn door.”

          I quickly put the tray down on my bed. I have to open the door- if I don’t, Circe will probably just shoot through it. I’m already up and moving anyway, I guess. I push the button next to my door and watch it slide open, my knuckles turning white from holding my comforter so close and tight around me.

          Sure enough, Circe is revealed from behind my door. His hair is matted like he had recently been wearing his mandalorian helmet. His brown eyes are piercing, like he’s on a mission. The only thing that looks different about him is how scraggly his stubble has become.

          “You look like shit,” Circe says after observing me for a moment.

          I don’t answer him. My mouth has suddenly gone dry become most of my recent memories with him include Keres.

    ��     Circe waits for a response, receives none, and then rolls his amber eyes. “Move,” he says as he moves me to the side. His muscular form marches into my room. The door slides closed behind him without me doing anything.

          “So,” he begins. “There something you wanna tell me? Or are we just gonna dance around this forever?”

          I open my parched lips slightly like I’m actually going to say something, but I don’t know what and I immediately close them again.

          Circe tilts his head as he peers into my eyes, searching and intimidating me. “About Keres maybe?”

          I tense up, my eyes snapping to meet his more angrily than I mean. I can’t help it. Her name makes something inside of me snap. Like a long coil that’s pulled tight and severing itself slowly, than as fast as possible all at once.

          “Yeah, I thought so. I want you to tell me where she is.”

          I swallow. Behind him, on the corner of my bed, a figure materializes. It’s sitting up straight and proper. Like a shadow, it’s dark and I can’t make it out clearly, even though I know exactly what it’s supposed to be. “Tell him,” her voice says.

          I look at Circe with a fearful expression, trying to see if he heard her or not. He acknowledges nothing. But she’s… it sounds just like her.

          “Mustafar…” I squeak out with more hoarse voice.

          Circe holds up his hand like he’s swearing an oath, signaling me to stop. “She took your place, didn’t she?”

          I’m too stunned and pained to speak.

          “Yeah, I knew it.” He pauses, his voice dropping low and close to a whisper. “Have you told anyone?”

          I shake my head no. Circe continues to stare into my eyes, making me feel somewhat more uncomfortable than before. His gaze is piercing, almost angry, undeniable. “Why would she do that?”

          The pilots words feel like an accusation. It’s like he wanted to say “how could you let her do that? What could have happened to drive her to this?” He’s demanding an answer from someone who has little to none. Circe is right though. How could I have let her do this? I had everything planned out so well! All the soldiers involved in the mission understood that I was to be left behind. But of course, Keres had tricked me. She has that affect on people. It wasn’t even an especially complex trick or anything. All she had to do was lead me to the escape pods and get me off my focus. Once I was in all she had to do was send me off. How could I have just let that happen?

          I want to tell him it’s my fault, but nothing comes out. I just can’t seem to get a hang out of my words anymore. Not that it would matter, exactly. I wouldn’t have anything good to say. Circe isn’t asking for anything good, though. “I…” is all I manage to get out.

          Circe folds his arms as he waits for me to say something else. But my mouth feels dry and if I don’t move around soon I’ll start to think I’m burning alive again. “Was it quick?” he asks. “Was it painless?”

          No. It definitely wasn’t painless. I wasn’t up there in personal to see it happen, but I didn’t have to be to know. Whether she smacked her head and made it quick, or fell and burned alive, it was painful. Keres’s last feeling was not one of peace. It was agony, whether I want to accept it or not.  

          “Yes,” I say, weakly. “It was painless.” I rattle my brain to think of some other reassuring lie for Circe to see right through. “Just like falling asleep.”

          There’s a scoff from behind Circe. The figure I had forgotten about, the one sitting on my bed, seems to roll their head. I would assume they’re rolling their eyes as well. “Yeah, right,” they say. A shiver runs down my spine as the voice bounces around inside my head. “If you like falling asleep in a volcano.”

          I try to ignore it. I’m just… I’m just sleep deprived. I’m hearing things. I’m seeing things. She’s not here. She’s not talking or speaking or… anything. Because she’s not here. I must be losing my mind.           “You are losing your mind.”

          I stare at the figure, stunned and frozen. “What?” it says, sounding just like her. Sarcastic voice and everything. “I’m not here. You know that. You watched me… you know…” the figure makes a motion with it’s hands that simulates a kind of goofy looking explosion.

          “Adamus?” My eyes snap back to Circe, whose eyebrow is raised in suspicion and something like frustration.

          “I, uh-”

          “Are you alright? Is there something else you want to tell me?”

          I open my mouth to speak. Then something clicks in my brain. I can’t tell him about Keres anymore. Anything I admit will sound completely crazy, and Circe hates the Jedi. I’ve known this since almost day one with him. If I tell him, it’s the perfect reason to undermine me. He’ll think I’m insane. That I’m unfit to be leader. And then what?

          “Now you get it,” the figure exclaims, rolling its eyes.

          No. No, I can’t tell him. “No,” I say steadily. My normal voice has returned to me. I try to wipe my face clean of any agony, squaring my shoulders like I normally would. “No. There’s nothing.”

          Circe goes quiet. The gears of his mind twist and turn as he analyzes me in that way that I hate. “Alright.”

          I watch him leave the room. He glances over his shoulder at me one more time like he wants to say something. Then he stalks out of my room and the door closes behind him.

          I let out a deep breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. Then I crumple in on myself, sinking to my knees as I hold my head. I want to sob. I want to cry but everything inside of me is dry and cracked and stale. It feels like the fires on Mustafar, engulfing me and my mind in a cage. I scan the room to see if the figure is still there, but there’s nothing. I am completely alone with me and my caged brain. Thrumming inside of me with electricity like a drum. The only word I can manage to get out through my crippling pain is, “Keres”.

#star wars #star wars masterlist #star wars prequels #star wars fanfiction #fanfiction #star wars fanon #fanon #jedi #grayjedi #sith #inquisitorius #star wars story #story

[avengers-nextgen]

32, 9 and 15 for Natasha and Sage

“Can someone please explain to me, in small words, why I’m being assigned to this mission?”/ “Wait, something doesn’t feel right”/ “Don’t tell me you’re fine! I can see the blood.”

— — —

Sage wasn’t sure why she needed to be in Fury’s office. In fact, she wasn’t sure why he wanted her there at all. Sure, she was a better person now, but she had stabbed him. Still, she found herself sulking down the hallways until she arrived. But only then did her confusion worsen because the only other person aside from Fury within the room was Natasha.

“You asked for me?” Sage frowned, trying not to sound bored.

“Yes,” Fury nodded, “you and Rogers have a mission.”

Of all the things the bald man could have said...he said that. Blinking slowly, Sage tried to sort out her confusion. “I’m sorry what?”

“You and Natasha will be taking care of a mission,” Fury repeated, slower than before.

“I got it,” Sage snapped, “but can someone please explain to me, in small words, why I’m being assigned to this mission? I mean, I don’t normally go on adventures without people my own age.”

“Did you call me old?” Natasha asked, arching a brow.

“No!” Sage huffed, “I’m just confused. That’s all.”

“I’m pairing the both of you together because Natasha has experience, and you have an arsenal of powers that may be useful in making sure neither of you die. Besides, it’s about time you and the rest of the kids start handling more dangerous scenarios.” Fury explained, shuffling papers on his desk.

“We handled Prometh-you know who-and that was dangerous.” Sage reminded.

“Yes, but I’m referring to threats other than a god like man working on some weird political and ideological agenda. I’m talking about stealth missions,” Fury sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “From what I’ve heard, you’re not very...stealthy.”

“I think she understands,” Natasha interjected, quick to cut the conversation short lest the two erupt into a full blown argument. “Just brief us.”

— — —

“Oh this thing is stifling,” Sage groaned, extremely in happy about the wet suit she was wearing. Apparently, though she wasn’t sure why, the base they needed to breach was under water in an unmarked cave system.

“You get used to it,” Natasha smiles thinly.

“Yes, but your normal suit is this tight,” Sage remarked.

“That’s because as a spy you lean that baggy clothes are a hindrance. They have a way of setting off alarms,” Natasha smirked. “A friend of mine wore cargo pants. Set off booby traps and got impaled by a metal rod.”

“Where in gods name were you?” Sage stammered.

“Russia,” Natasha shrugged. The older woman simply checked over the small oxygen tank and mask. Then, without asking, she began checking over Sage’s gear. “Always double check equipment. SHIELD is good about maintenance but you never know. The last thing you want is a mask to break when you’re dozens of feet under water.”

“Right,” Sage nodded, albeit awkwardly. Despite herself, she still wasn’t entirely comfortable around Alex’s parents.

“Drop zone is below, lowering ramp,” Maria’s voice came over their ear pieces. The sudden noise startled Sage. She’d forgotten all about the device.

With a groan that shook the empty cargo hold, the ramp slowly lowered revealing calm waters below. Natasha was the first to move. She edged carefully to the lip of the ramp before leaping off and splashing into the water down below. With a grudging sigh, Sage followed.

The water was cold, or at least colder than she’d expected. She watched as Natasha pulled on the mask and took a few test breaths. Mimicking the procedure, Sage gave a thumbs up indicating she was set to descend below the surface. With a confirmatory nod, Natasha dipped below the surface of the water.

Following closely behind, Sage found it difficult to keep pace with the agent. She was never particularly good at swimming but she’d always been able to manage. However, something about Natasha allowed her to streamline quickly through the water.

— — —

It wasn’t long until they reached the cave system. It’s mouth was dark and gaping like a waiting predator, but with little hesitation Natasha pulled a large light from her belt to illuminate the darkness.

Weaving through the submerged terrain, Sage worried they’d get lost, but nearly an hour later the rocky world around them shifted to strange slick metal. They’d found the foundations to a structure looming above.

Natasha’s beam of light glanced off the metal surfaces exposing a grill in the ceiling. Was it a ceiling? Sage wasn’t sure what to call it. Pausing beneath the hunk of metal, the spy studied it with care before motioning Sage over. Though it was hard to understand, Sage finally understood Natasha’s pantomiming. She wanted her to melt the welding lines. With a tentative nod, Sage produced a green flame. It flickered out for a moment before growing brighter with Sage’s concentration. Frankly, she’d never made fire underwater before.

Following the welding marks, the water began to bubble as metal soon released its hold. With a grunt, Natasha tore the grill from its resting place. Clambering up through the opening she turned to help her young companion out of the water. Removing the mask and slipping it into her belt, Natasha surveyed the area. “We’re on a low level. Probably the lowest one if it’s connected to the sea.”

“So we move up?” Sage asked, shaking the water from her hair.

“Mm,” Natasha nodded, carefully padding down a dark expanse of tunnel managing to make little sound. Sage found the ability to walk silently much more difficult. The combination of the wetsuit, the equipment, and being cold had thrown off her natural stride. “We need the third floor. Can you detect a way to get there?”

“I can try,” Sage nodded. Closing her eyes, she searched the environment for any source of chaotic energy. Nothing came to light. Resorting to a new method, she attempted to do a trace spell-something her father had taught her quite recently-which allowed her to retrace any recent event that’s taken place within an hour’s time frame.

Fortunately, someone had been down on their very floor within the hour. The uniformed individual, made two right hand turns leading to a flight of stairs. It wasn’t much but it would do. Relaying the information, Sage kept close to Natasha as she took the lead.

Moving slowly up the winding metal steps, they neared a large heavy door. With a small wave of the hand from Sage, the lock melted and Natasha eased the door open. The room was dark aside from large running databases. “I don’t know what any of this is. You should’ve brought Fox.”

“Please. Both of you on this mission would make us all dead,” Natasha snorted, eyeing up the technology. “Besides, I know my way around.”

Holding her hands up in surrender, Sage let the spy take charge. She was certain Natasha knew more about this stuff than she ever would. Thankfully, Sage was right, and Natasha was able to locate a wide cube of metal with flashing lights, connecting cables, and a small screen flashing codes.

“Is this what we need?” Sage asked.

“No, what we need are the codes. We need to get a copy of them. That way e can analyze the order and frequency of them. Figure out what exactly this machine operates,” Natasha explained, skimming her fingers over different nooks and crannies. She paused, flipped open a latch, and removed the outer frame. If Sage wasn’t confused before, she certainly was now, because the insides of the device contained even more lights, wires, and green plastic cards.

Feeling about, Natasha located a thin plastic card. “This should keep the machine running long enough for us to get out of here before they notice something’s wrong.”

“What’d you take?”

“This little card programs for a coolant system. It’ll keep things from over heating. It runs on a cycle. What we really need is this-“ Natasha rather violently stripped another piece of plastic from the machine. “A back up coding system. It won’t stop the machine from running it’s just a safety mechanism Incase the original codes are compromised.”

“Great, let’s go,” Sage nodded. Heading back the way they’d come.

“Wait,” Natasha cautioned, catching Sage by the arm. “Something doesn’t feel right. This place is too empty.”

“We have to get out of here one way or another,” Sage sighed, “but I can try teleporting both of us back-“

“No, your strength is important,” Natasha shook her head. She remembered how haggard Sage looked the time she’d saved Alex from drowning. How exhausting it was to make sure they both ended up where they needed to be.

“Then we’ll be careful,” Sage decided, and although she wasn’t excited about it Natasha lead the way back to the lowest level. Only as they rounded the corner a series of gunfire sounded off. Acting on instinct, Natasha grabbed Sage by the collar and flattened her back against the wall.

“Don’t move,” Natasha warned, listening closely for the gunfire to die down. “Damn I knew they’d be here.”

“Well, we’ll have to move eventually. Otherwise we’re sitting ducks,” Sage hissed, flinching at the sound of a bullet piercing the wall by her head.

“Then I’ll give you cover fire. But don’t do anything you don’t have to. Our main job is to get out of here. That’s it,” Natasha warned, peeking around the edge of the wall. A stray shot rang out as she ducked away. “We only have one exit.”

Steeling her nerves, Sage gave a nod and darted around the corner. In an instant two silver blades settled snuggly in her palms, but they left as quickly as they’d appeared finding their marks in the chests of enemies. Behind her, Natasha’s gun sounded off suppressing the enemy.

Eyes glowing, Sage managed to set the uniforms of the attackers aflame though it wouldn’t hurt them too badly, as she hadn’t set the entire outfit on fire. It was just enough to cause panic and distress. Still, a few of the enemy were brave enough to hold fire.

“Let’s go,” Natasha breathed, running up beside Sage and shoving her towards the hole they’d climbed through. Slipping inside, Sage struggled to pull her mask on before reaching up and tugging Natasha down into the water. The two swam like mad before finally shooting out of the cave system. And though the light was dim, Sage was grateful for the sun. But she noticed a thin trail of copper in the water. Eyes narrowing, she noticed the source of blood. It was a wound in Natasha’s side.

— — —

“Are you okay?” Sage asked, chucking her mask aside as soon as they’d re-boarded the plane.

“I’m fine,” Natasha insisted.

“Don’t tell me you’re fine! I can see the blood,” Sage frowned.

“I’ve been shot more times than how old you are,” Natasha chuckled, “I’ll be fine. Now sit down and enjoy the ride back.”

Though Sage wanted to protest, she listened. If anyone knew whether a gunshot wound was serious or not-it was Natasha. “You’re crazy.”

“Eh,” Natasha shrugged, flashing the young girl a smile. “Everyone has to be. At least a little. Where else would the fun come from?”

Though she tried to fight the smile, Sage couldn’t help herself. Maybe Natasha wasn’t too bad after all. Or at least, not as intimidating as she’d thought.

#avengers #avengers next gen #marvel #mcu #romanogers #black widow #captain america #natasha romanoff #pepper potts #scarlet witch #asks #prompts #sage laufeyson #natasha rogers

[lucarioisinthevoid]

*impales Henry through the thigh, the rod going right through the femur, breaking it* :)

Now that was a little more creative and granted, a bit more painful without an easy out. Instinctively he striked out, slashing his nails across the Anon's face, leaving a bloody streak over it. It was accompanied by an inhumane noise between a growl and hiss. Noise was noise. Why DOES the body even want to make noise when in pain?He couldn't understand it. His grin was just was inhuman as he stared down the Anon, holding down more noises with more of a humming noise in his throat. When he finally could take a breath, he laughed, rather out of tune, as the Doc got busy trying to fix him up. "I am so fucking BORED."

#henry miller

[asphodelsandpomegranates]

It’s Quiet Uptown (Pennywise x Reader)

You sat in the living room of your apartment, curled up with a blanket over you for comfort. You sat there, staring blankly out of the window for ages. You knew he was there behind you before he announced himself.

You weren't, however, in the mood for talking to him. Not after...

“(Y/N).” he said.

When you didn't reply, he lumbered over and sat down in front of you.

“My little human.” Pennywise coaxed, smiling, hoping to get you to smile.

You didn't. You just glared at him.

Realising that sweet talk wasn't going to work, he tried something else. Something that wasn't exactly like him.

“I,” he faltered. What was he suppose to say? Sorry? Sorry, wasn't good enough, judging by your attitude towards him as of late. “I know I don't deserve you, (Y/N). But please, listen to one.”

Silence on your part. This time you were looking away.

The alien clown could feel his temper rising but he managed to keep himself calm. If he wanted you to stay in his life for always, he was going to have to be sincere.

As sincere as an alien who didn't understand humans very well, could be.

“(Y/N), if I could have spared his...life. If I could trade his life for mine, he would be standing here in front of you, alive and...whole.”

Your eyes widened at the mention of him, being alive. The nerve of this clown!

“And you would smile. Right?”

You sighed and looked away.

“Don't make me beg, (Y/N).” he whined. “You know I don't beg.”

“Or votes of sympathy.” you hissed.

Penny's eyes widened at your words, then narrowed, turning red. “Well, at least, I got you talking.”

You mentally cursed yourself for breaking what you'd sworn you wouldn't do. You shuffled round on the sofa so you had your back to him.

“Just go away, Pennywise.”

The clown's response was to also shuffle closer to you and run his head against yours like a cat nuzzling it's owner. His long, lanky, silky clad arms wrapping around your frame.

“Please. I didn't know. I can't say sorry more than what I have.”

He nuzzled you even more. You could feel yourself leaning in. It felt quite soothing to be in his arms again and act putty around you. Somehow, Penny always made you feel better about yourself...

No!

No!

You shouldn't be doing this. Don't let him back in. He has to suffer. Just  like the Denbourgh. He has to realise that he's done wrong.

And this was not the way to do it.

“Penny, no. Get off, Penny. Stop it.”

But the clown's grip on you tightened.

“Let go of me, Pennywise.” you yelled, showing the clown off you and getting to your feet. “You can't just think everything's going to be okay with a few simple, sweet words. That's not how this works, Pennywise. That's not how we do it here.” you wiped away the tears as they appeared. “Leave now.” you spat.

“What?”

“I want you to go. Leave and don't even think of coming back.”

Pennywise growled, getting to his feet and hovering over you. You stood your ground, which in one way was a little bit stupid, but you couldn't show any weakness to him. He could have easily have torn you into little pieces or ate you whole, but he didn't. He just stared you down as though daring you to anger him further. When really, you should be the one daring him to anger you further.

After a few minutes of you and him staring, he hissed. “Have it your away.” He lumbered over to the door. You didn't follow him. If you did, you'd probably forgive him. He didn't deserve forgiveness.

As he neared the door of the apartment, Penny turned back round to glare at you one last time. You swore you could see the hint of his deadlights, flickering like a dying candle. But it wasn't enough to kill you or send you mad. It was a warning.

And with that he vanished.

                                                   ******************

It had been two months since you'd spoken to Pennywise. He didn't come near you or your house. Normally, he'd leave hints that he was around so that only you would know. But there had been nothing. No balloons, no grinning, blood smeared clown to see you go to and from work. It almost seemed rather dull with him not being around to play with you or hold you. Or even just be with you.

It was your week off and you were sitting where you'd once sat on the sofa in your flat. No blanket. No tears. You just sulked. You felt like a petty child who had not gotten their way. There was silence through out the apartment. You didn't feel like going outside. Normally, the apartment would have the background noise of a random television programme or possibly music on the radio as you cooked with Pennywise or showed him something human that he wasn't familiar with.

Even though the alien had been on this earth for centuries, he still didn't understand the way of humans. Which you couldn't blame him for as he would only be awake for so long before going for his long rest and then see all the changes he'd witness that happened since leaving.

Why, were you thinking of him?! This wasn't moving on from him, this was you wasting your time, thinking of an extraterrestrial being who murdered countless lives..!

Yet you knew that when you first came into contact with him.

You sunk a little into your couch. Your heart was aching.

Did you miss him? Yes. Did you want him back under your roof? Yes. Even after knowing what had happened with Georgie?

...Yes.

Did you love him in spite of everything? Yes, you did.

You curled in on yourself a little, wishing the ache to stop. But what good was sitting around moping? Nothing, if it meant just sitting here waiting for the eldritch being to come barging through your door and—.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang! Your front door was open. Or rather had been forced open. You sat up, looking round.

Please don't let it be an intruder.

Then out stepped Pennywise. He was hunched over and growling.

“Pennywise. Oh, Penny. I'm so—Jesus Christ!”

At your greeting, Penny turned to look at you and the awful sight that met you, made you stop dead. The clown had been impaled through the head, from the corner of his right eye to the left side of his temple. His left cheek was wide open, showing off rows and rows of sharp teeth. Blood seeped from the wound and travelled upwards, splattering the ceiling. He looked demonic.

You were speechless. “Wha-wh-wh...what happened?”

Pennywise said nothing. He just growled at you. He wasn't in frame of mind. He was in pain and incredibly upset. You walked tentatively over to him.

“Penny?”

The clown growled again. It seemed as though he was in pain, rather than being angry with you. You moved towards him, again, and leaned him against the wall trying your best to keep him up right.

“Penny? Penny, sweetheart, look at me.” The clown's head lolled a little, his eyes rolling and becoming unfocused. “Penny?”

Your eyes examined the wound. The iron rod was lodged well and truly and looked impossible to shift. But you couldn't let Penny die like this.

Getting to your feet, you took hold of the rod in a tight grip and began to pull. With a few tugs, you managed to shift the rod an inch or two but it still wasn't enough. Suddenly, a clawed hand latched onto your wrist. The nails digging into your skin, breaking it and dripping blood. You locked eyes with Penny. His eyes red with pain and ill will. He threw you off him and took hold of the spike. He wrenched it from his head, letting out the most inhuman yell. It made you jump and flinch away in horror.

The spike was soon dislodged from his head leaving two holes that glistened with blood. You stared at the clown as he huffed and puffed with exhaustion. He looked to you, his eyes softening; the colour fading from red to yellow to blue. You stared back at him, not caring about the stinging pain from your wrist. You moved towards him, before pulling yourself into his hold. You felt his claws digging into the fabric of your clothes. His face buried into neck.

“I know you told me not to—.”

“No.” you interrupted. “Don't. You're home, now. Just let me stay here by your side.”

…

“...That would be enough.”

You both did not let go.

Forgiveness...can you imagine?

Forgiveness...

...Can you imagine?

#Pennywise the dancing clown #pennywise 2017 #pennywise imagine #pennywise x reader #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgård x reader #bill skarsgård imagine #it movie 2017

[abbie-writes-stuff]

Hey! Could you write a Todoroki imagine where the reader gets badly wounded in battle after saving him from an explosion or some attack by a villain? Then she ends up dying before he can get her help and she just barely manages to tell him she loves him? And then how Todoroki deals with the grief of the reader dying? Thank you so much your writing is amazing!!!!

Flower

Word Count: 1.9k

Before

This wasn’t supposed to happen. One moment, the dual-haired hero was chasing down a perilous villain and the next, he was trapped in a condensed alley-way. (Y/N)? Nowhere to be seen.

His partner and best friend could be anywhere, and that anywhere is not near Shouto. To make matters worse, he has lost sight of the villain he was pursuing.

But something was wrong. Very, very wrong. The air was thick with tension as a dismal feeling churns his gut.

Beep Beep Beep

What was that noise? No matter. His first priority is to find (Y/N) and get the hell out of here.

Slowly, he starts walking towards the exit. The beeping is more prominent now but he still chooses to neglect it. It’s probably some elevator noise anyway.

The exit leads him to a large and empty parking lot a few stories above ground, the familiar crisp scent of spring invading his senses. From the corner of his eyes, he can see a few multi-colored gladioli growing against a crack.

“Todoroki?”

His head whips around at that familiar voice. When his eyes finally focus on a certain girl, his heart swells with unimaginable relief and he lets go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

She’s okay

“Where were you?” was the first question that pops out of him.

“I thought you were ahead of me but I guess I made a wrong turn or something.”

Beep Beep Beep

“What is that?” the girl asks, looking around for the source of the unsettling noise.

“I don’t know, but—”

His sentence was cut off by a harsh thrust.

Heat nipped at his skin momentarily before he was sent flying a few feet away from before. The collision with the concrete ground knocked the breath out of his lungs.

White noise fills his ears as his vision blurs tremendously. Ringing, nothing but ringing can be heard. He can feel the sharp sting of a cut somewhere on his arm and the metallic taste of blood biting at his taste buds.

An indescribable pain throbs and burns against his leg as he barely chokes back a groan. Though, no pain could compare to the sight of a certain someone in front of him.

When his vision finally clears, he focuses on the girl laying so many feet ahead of him.

Her figure was turned to the side and she only had a few cuts and bruises littering her body. Those cuts and bruises, though, were nothing compared to the large blossom of crimson against the concrete where her head lies.

His heart drops at the implication. All of a sudden, he can feel and hear his heartbeat beating violently through his chest.

He coughs, smoke covering nearly every inch of the building as he struggles to get up.

“(Y/N),” he manages to wheeze out as he limps to the fallen hero.

What does he do? What does he do?

He can’t breathe, he’s suffocating, and he’s breaking.

Cradling her bleeding head against his hand, he sobs out in complete agony.

“(Y/N)?”

Her eyes flutter open, but barely. She looks so tired. So, so tired.

She shoots him a small but pained smile.

“Shouto, stop.”

His first name rolls off her tongue as tears start to endlessly pour out of his beautiful heterochromatic eyes like a waterfall. He shakes his head no.

“Please don’t let this stop you,” she chokes.

Agonized whispers of no’s and you’re fine’s continue to fall out of his mouth as he continues to sob in denial.

“No, you’re okay,” he says. But even he knows that he’s lying.

“Shouto, don’t do this to yourself.”

He shakes his head pathetically as tears stream down his face.

She can’t die here. She can’t.

He promised to protect her, so why is she the one dying and not him? He should’ve been to the one to push her away, not her.

“The ambulance will be here soon, and when they get here, they’ll patch you up and you’ll be fine,” he says desperately.

“No,” she shakes her head in disagreement. Her voice cracks, laced with sorrow. “They won’t get here in time.”

He brings his shaking hand up to stroke matted her hair. “Yes, they will.”

“Hey,” she breathes out.

Her eyes are now brimming with tears as well. A crystal one slides down her blood-stained cheek as her breaths become shorter and shorter.

“I love you.”

Those short breaths slowly fade into nothingness and he wails. He sobs and sobs and sobs until he can’t breathe.

Drowning in his own grief, he buries his head in her chest and wails.

His sweet, little (Y/N). Why, why, why, why, why? Out of all the people in this world, why was she the one plucked too early? Why?

“I love you too,” he strangles out, a violent sob wracking his entire body.

“I love you too.”

Sirens blare through the streets as paramedics come pouring into the building but Shouto ignores it all. He has to.

I should’ve done something about that ticking, he thinks in utter disgust. You useless piece of shit.

He can’t stop crying. He can’t stop hurting.

He needs to hear that laugh one more time. He wants oh so badly for her to just sit up and say that it was all a joke. That she isn’t dead and that there was no bomb. And yet every time he looks at her battered body he sobs harder.

A hand places itself on his shoulder, trying to pull him away from her.

“No, no. You can’t leave her there!” he cries out, helplessly staring at the EMT’S swarming (Y/N)’s body.

“You can’t leave her there…”

After

The dull sting of numbness is all he can feel as he sits immobile in the ambulance.

There were no more tears left in him, no more energy to sob. The only thing that still remains is the throbbing of grief in his chest.

Doctors were currently surrounding him, trying to control the bleeding at his leg. Apparently, he was impaled by a rod. He was probably too numb to feel it.

When he asked about what they would do about (Y/N), all they did was solemnly say ‘I’m sorry’.

But sorry isn’t enough, nor will it ever be.

In the ambulance car, Shouto can see a few white gladioli in a clear vase atop of a medical table kept inside the van. How it hasn’t been knocked over yet is beyond him.

“If you like them, you can take one home.”

Shouto looks up at one of the paramedics.

He smiles and nods towards the vase, eyes filled with pity and sympathy.

With nothing left to do and no one left to fight for, he slowly reaches for the pure white flower.

⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋

Who knew something so beautiful could be so powerful?

That was the question he has asked himself ever since he met her. Through thick and thin, she stood her ground with a smile gracing her lips through it all.

She was strong, stronger than he ever was. Through all the hell they’ve both walked through, she was somehow always beaming.

Shouto is laying in the hospital bed with the white gladiolus on his bedside table, looking out the window.

Afternoon sunlight beams in through the opened window but it provides no comfort. Even now he can imagine her tender hand upon his own.

“Shouto, you have a few visitors.”

When he turns his head, he can see a familiar trio at the doorway, staring at him in shock and anguish.

Uraraka was the first to speak.

“Is she really…”

Shouto doesn’t respond. He can’t bring himself to. Once again, tears start to prick at the corner of his eyes as he harshly bites his cheek. The same pulse of misery beats within his chest again.

She gasps, cupping her mouth and wails, hiding herself in Midoriya’s shoulder. The green-haired boy is also crying now.

Iida, on the other hand, was covering his eyes with both hands, silently sharing their grief as tears stream down his face as well.

“Oh my god,” he hears Uraraka quietly cry out. He understands.

She was such a good person. So kind and loving beyond words. (Y/N) and the brunette were connected by the hip, told each other everything and anything.

(Y/N) was the one who helped the girl navigate her feelings for a certain someone back in high school. Her wing-woman, if you will.

Now who will she tell her secrets to?

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save her,” he admits in pain.

Now the three are looking at him.

“Todoroki, don’t blame yourself. She wouldn’t want that,” Midoriya says in a cracked voice.

Iida nods in agreement.

For what felt like the hundredth time today, he shakes his head.

“Todoroki,” Uraraka whispered out.

They all move towards him without hesitation, wrapping their arms around the broken figure. He lets the tears he’s been holding back flow out rapidly as his breathing becomes uneven again.

This time though, his comrades are crying with him.

For their sake, and for hers.

⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋

Three weeks after the incident, Shouto has never left his apartment. His desk is stacked with cards and gifts that say they’re sorry. Sorry for what? What’s the point of being sorry for something that they didn’t commit? It’s frustrating.

They kept coming in every single week, and every single week they go unread and placed on his desk.

One week though, he received a card that was like no others.

It was plain and small, but it was snow-white. Just like the single gladiolus inside the card.

The heterochromatic boy eyes the card with yielding suspicion but opens it with delicacy. Plucking the flower from the card, he places it beside him. Neat letters were written in the card. Unlike the other ones he has received, the letter was a single sentence long.

We’re right here for you.

His breath escapes him as his fingers twiddle a stalk of leaf from the flower beside him. What was he to make of this? There was no sender on the card, but he had a pretty good idea of who we was.

He eyes the ivory blossom with gratitude. The petals blooming were a delicate white and the flower itself was oh so beautiful. Just like she was. It might be a bit strange, but he could see a bit of (Y/N) within the gladiolus.

Shouto remembers briefly what her favorite flower was. It was quite strange when he first heard. Most girls liked roses, peonies, carnations, lilies, and violets. Not her. Instead of the blooming, single stem buds, she opts for the gladiolus. Although unheard of, still just as beautiful.

Maybe he should start believing in that a little more. Maybe she would’ve wanted him to forgive himself.

Shouto looks at the framed picture at his bedside. In the photograph, (Y/N) was smiling under the sun in a flower field, her (E/C) eyes shimmering against the sunlight.

She would’ve wanted him to be happy.

Before he knew it, a warm tear creeps down his cheek again, but not with sadness this time. This time, the tear was shed out of contentment. She’s gone, but not really. That realization starts to dawn and sink in as his gaze continues to linger on the white blossom. He’s contempt because she would be too. Knowing her, she would laugh and say, “It’ll be alright.”

And it will be. Nothing will ever take her away from him. Not a villain, not death, not the skies.

And he promises, by all means, that he will be alright.

Besides, now he has a favorite flower.

I cried writing this no joke. I hope you like this anni, tears were shed writing this :’)

PS. The gladiolus flower means “strong, integrity, sincerity, infatuation, and determination. I chose this flower specifically because I wanted the reader to resemble the flower in some kind of way and I may or may not have sobbed while doing research for this but oh dangity well 

#shouto #todoroki #shouto todoroki #shoto #shoto todoroki #shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #shoto x reader #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader